Capturing Your Soul
by Sevotharte
Summary: Mr. Jefferson was searching for a hidden gem among his students. A gifted talent who could catch his attention and become his new obsession. Prequel AU story to Life is Strange focusing on M. Jefferson and M. Caulfield.
1. Prologue

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **Disclaimer:** Life is Strange belongs to Dontnod Entertaiment.

Prologue: A promising project

It was late in the afternoon in Arcadia Bay, Oregon. The warm autumn sun shone through the large windows of the now absent art classroom at Blackwell Academy. The school's arts subject teacher and one of the world's famous photographers Mark Jefferson was sitting at his wooden desk, his laptop next to him showing a list of all current students who attended his lectures. It was the beginning of a new semester and he was more than curious if a hidden gem was waiting to be discovered by him in this group of aspiring students. Maybe there was someone among them who could still surprise him and capture his interest. A future star artist maybe, or a photographer with an interesting and unique vision or … a new model, a new possible subject.

This had always been the exciting part for him being a teacher at Blackwell. He was here to teach, yes. And while it sometimes was tiring and tedious to share his vast knowledge with these ungrateful teenagers who mostly had the attention span of a toddler, he considered some of them worthy granting them his precious time. Maybe even one of them would actually listen to his lectures and appreciate his vision. A vision which he believed to be the culmination of his entire work of art. Everything in his life had led to this point. And this vision was worth it to take all these risks for these past few years. It was hard to say how long it would take to realize his vision. Until he would finally find that one perfect shot which captured true purity, true innocence. It would be his final masterpiece.

Maybe his art lectures would inspire others to follow in his footsteps, to pursue his grand artistic vision. And to be a teacher here at this well-known academy of art and science, this job offered him the best possibilities to achieve his goals. How ironic that it was just Sean Prescott who gave him this position at Blackwell in the first place. That man didn't even have a clue who he was dealing with. But he would get his rude awakening, sooner or later.

Mr. Jefferson, as these kids all respectfully called him here, had always given them the same task at the start of a new semester. It was an assignment for the first school day which would separate the gifted ones from the untalented losers. The brown-haired men couldn't help but smile as he remembered their shocked and surprised faces as he told them to hand over a picture which represented the essence of their art style. It was a fitting first task to not only measure their skill levels, but also to have a glimpse of their personality, their soul. In his mind a single picture could tell you more about a person than a thousand spoken words.

A pile of photos was lying in front of him and the photo of Ms. Victoria Chase was the first which caught his attention.

It was a picture of a young woman wearing a stylish flowing Gucci dress in red, the lighting, the model's pose and the chosen angle were excellent, the colour red was very vibrant and prominent in this shot. It was a good photo but the teacher just sighed, the disappointment clearly visibly in his features as he examined the photo with his brown scrutinizing eyes.

 _'Ah Victoria, always trying so hard.'_ , he scoffed because this young woman still hasn't found her own style yet. One could clearly see the influences of her idol. She was just another fangirl of Richard Avedon, the whole picture was like a copy of one of his fashion photographs. _'It isn't bad to seek inspiration from your favourite artists but you should at least make it your own style, my dear Victoria.'_

It was no secret to him that her two closest friends were writing Victoria's essays for his art class. And copying a certain style of your beloved artist didn't make it any better. Still, he chose to put the photo to the stack which contained the pictures of those which he deemed to have some talent. Victoria was skilled and knew how to use her fancy expensive DSLR camera effectively. She just lacked her own style, her own vision. Time would tell if he has to move her to the loser's pile one day.

The next photo in his hand was shot by Nathan Prescott. He didn't need to read the name on the back to know it was him. The motif was Nathan through and through. A black and white shot showing a dead bird on the grey asphalt street. It was clearly shot in the dark, the flickering street-lamps were casting some nice shadows there. He chuckled quietly and felt a weird sort of pride when he thought about his so-called son. _'Very good, Nathan. You're finally embracing my teachings. Seems you're not as deaf as you sometimes appear to be with that drugged mind of yours.'_

Mark Jefferson acknowledged the evolution of Nathan's artistic rich Prescott kid who was so desperately seeking Mark's approval.' _You really have an eye for shadows, Nate. I always knew that. And you're slowly improving under my guidance. It seems our private tutoring lessons weren't for nothing.'_ Smiling he placed Nathan's picture on top of Victoria's photo.

Another photo soon caught his eye, a picture of two little children, a boy and a girl laughing and running on the beach, the sea water splashing under their feet. _'Kate Marsh. Only she is able to display such kindness and innocence through her pictures.'_ He thought, a part of him appreciating her approach, feeling that this work reflected Kate's essence. But the other part, the darker part of him questioned her beliefs and naiveté. _'How will you feel, Kate, if someone would finally put your faith to the test? Would you prevail and stay strong? Or would your spirit break apart? I can't wait to see your transformation through my lens. And i can assure you, it will be magnificent.'_

The next photos were more than disappointing. But what can you expect of these dumb Bigfoot football jocks who didn't take Jefferson's art classes seriously at all. The loser's pile was growing larger and larger and he reached a point again where he groaned in frustration and wanted to quit this whole endeavor for today.

Sighing, he took another photo in his hand and read the name 'Max Caulfield' on the back of an analog picture. _'Ah, the new student. The quiet photo nerd with her old analog camera.'_ He smiled in amusement and suddenly froze in his movement when he turned the photo around. Minutes passed by as his brown almost black eyes roamed over the photo, absorbing all the tiny little details. No doubt, this was a simple, yet stunning piece of art. It was a self-portrait, or a so-called _selfie_ as how kids these days called it in their ignorance.

„Max Caulfield...". Mark Jefferson whispered her name softly, a hint of strange fascination audible in his quiet voice. This single photo had caught him completely off guard. It was brilliant in its simplicity and beautiful in its creative execution. This girl had used the fountain in front of the school entrance as her stage. A photo of her smiling face reflected in the water, the light dots of the sun framing her in a natural and wonderful manner. This snapshot was exactly what he had been looking for. He could immediately tell if someone had a gift to be a future star photographer or not. Max Caulfield clearly had a gift. The question was if this was just a lucky shot or if Max truly was a capable photographer. Maybe she was what some would call a natural talent.

Just by looking at this picture, it told him everything he needed to know about this girl. Her passion for photography was shining through here and it brought forth a feeling which he hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling of familiarity and nostalgia. Like he could somehow sense a connection between them.

Max reminded him of his younger self. A younger Mark Jefferson at the beginning of his promising career. A time where he hadn't faced the disillusion of this whole contrived fashion industry yet, where he hadn't reached this point of great frustration which had paved the way to his new obsession. A past where his photos had carried his enthusiasm and his love for photography like Max Caulfield's shots. It was a time he remembered fondly. Now that Jefferson was older and had gained more and more experience and knowledge over the years, he had developed a new passion as his focus had shifted to solely carving his own private art niche.

His scrutinizing gaze moved up to the laptop screen, his black and white trendy glasses reflecting the bright monitor's light. Scrolling through the student excel list, he soon found her name. But his disappointment grew as he couldn't gather much information about her here. Aside from her birth date and the name of the last high-school she attended in Seattle there was nothing. He'd have to search for her student file in the faculty office to find out more about Maxine Caulfield. It then occured to him that he had another photo of her, the commemorative picture he had taken of each new art class during their first day. Quickly he went to the respective folder and opened the image file.

There she was. She somehow looked small and inconspicuous sitting between her classmates Taylor and Alyssa. It was clear just by looking at her face that she probably felt uncomfortable in front of his camera. But Mark Jefferson could understand her uneasiness. Most of his students felt overwhelmed when they witnessed their teacher, a professional photographer at work with his expensive Hasselblad H5D camera. As he closely observed her on the picture, his mind memorized her appearance. Her short brown hair, her beautiful blue eyes, the tinly freckles on her face. He could already imagine himself taking pictures of her, trying different angles and close-ups and framing her exactly his way.

But the man also knew that he would have to be patient and take his time. The art lecturer didn't want to scare away his prey. No, he wanted to lure her. It would be so much better and easier if she willingly posed for him. Just like Rachel Amber. He would have her all to himself, enjoying their own private photo sessions.

Jefferson looked away from his screen and tried to recall Maxine's seat in his class. _'Ah, it was there. Right behind Daniel Da Costa's desk in the back of the classroom.'_

The man stood up and slowly walked behind her chair. _'Max, i wonder, what do your camera eyes see from here?'_ He asked in his thoughts and knelt down while his right hand absent-mindedly traced the wooden surface of her table. Deep in thought his observant eyes scanned the whole room. His gaze intense and focused as he was searching for the right spot to not only be captured by this girl's camera eyes but to also have a fitting angle to let his eyes capture hers.

 _'There, too perfect.'_ It was a spot right in front of her, in the middle of the classroom. This position would be more than satisfactory to hold the attention of all his students and to have his eyes on his new promising project, on this young and gifted woman called Max Caulfield.

AN: I wrote this as a prequel to the events in Life is Strange. I've always wondered how Jefferson could become so obsessed with Max and wanted to write a little story about it. I'm not quite sure yet if this will only be a prequel or if this story will go on and become AU. Hope you like it and please keep in mind that english is not my first language. I'll try my best to keep errors to a minimum. Thanks for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 1: Temptation

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: A big thank you to tur1823 for reviewing.**_

 **Chapter 1: Temptation**

It was the highlight of her day, Mr. Jefferson's photography class. Max Caulfield had been looking forward to this lecture for a while now after science class with Ms. Grant had been such a drag. It just wasn't her subject. Particle physics was a topic, she would never understand. Even if Ms. Grant tried to explain it for dummies like her, or if her new geek friend Warren Graham wrote down notes to explain the matter, she just couldn't get it in her head.

That was the reason why she felt so relieved now sitting here. She understood and loved photography. It wasn't such a mystery to her as physics.

Max couldn't help but smile while she listened to her favorite teacher talking in a warm, soft voice, "Today, we'll be talking about famous photographers who are a great influence and inspiration for many photographers of today. Like Annie Leibovitz for example. You all probably know her famous shot of Mick Jagger in an elevator. If you haven't seen it, shame, shame. It's an all-time classic and a standard for everyone who aspires to become a concert-tour photographer one day."

After the minutes went by, Max felt that something was odd today. Yesterday Mr. Jefferson had been leaning against the edge of his desk in front of everyone during the entire lecture. But now he was standing right in front of her in the middle of the classroom. And Max feared that her newcomer status was the reason behind it. ' _Of course I'm the newbie here. No wonder he has his eyes on me_.'

To make things worse, she became aware of her clothing, a black fun shirt showing the label _Keep calm and take a photo_ printed in bold white letters on the front. _'Yeah, Mr. Jefferson look at me, I'm the silly photo nerd of your class.'_

During the lesson the young student would occasionally look up from her notebook scribbles and her eyes would meet his. Every time it happened Max would instantly swallow and avert her eyes quickly, already knowing that her cheeks turned red whenever she sensed that her photography teacher was staring at her.

' _Crap. Why am I always so nervous and shy around Mr. Jefferson? It's ridiculous_.' She thought. Yes, he was an attractive man, she couldn't deny that. His dark brown hair always looked messy like if he had just woken up from sleep but it suited his hip style. The black and white frames of his glasses were kinda cool and his light facial hair gave him an exotic, sexy look. And yes, she was also fond of his voice. It sounded so smooth and soft, resonating with a deep timbre. Sometimes she caught herself relaxing in his presence while listening to him speak. As if in trance she would slowly close her eyes, focusing only on his voice and forgetting her surroundings and her classmates around her.

Max had to admit, she was a dreamer. And Mr. Jefferson's class always gave her a lot of opportunities to chill, allowing her to let her thoughts drift away.

But suddenly her ears picked up Mr. Jefferson's voice very close to her. She blinked in confusion, feeling her body tense like a bowstring and noticing too late that he had taken a few steps towards her direction. ' _Great, he must've seen me daydreaming again. Way to go, Sleepyhead!_ '

"As you all know, I'm always curious to learn which photographers serve as _your_ source of inspiration." Mr. Jefferson began and his eyes were now fixed on hers. Max couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in her seat, her nervousness rising. It was as if his gaze was pinning her down.

"Now Max, since you are one of our newest additions to my art class, I would _love_ to hear which photographers served as your inspirational resource. Would you care to share?" He asked her, being so close to her desk with his body bending over her that she could already smell his expensive cologne and a faint scent of coffee around him.

"I, uh." The girl muttered, immediately feeling stressed. In her mind she had compiled a whole list of heroes. But it was difficult to pick out the ones she admired the most. And to make it worse, the arrogant rich girl Victoria Chase was already sneering to her left and staring daggers at her.

' _Yeah, yeah, if looks could kill, right, Victoria?_ ' She thought, automatically biting her lip. Max hated it to be the center of attention. To have all eyes on her. But that was not all. One of her idols, Mark Jefferson was standing right in front of her. His overwhelming presence didn't really help her to calm her nerves.

Mr. Jefferson probably noticed her unease and gave her a reassuring smile, his voice conveying warmth. "There's no need to be nervous around us, Max. We won't bite."

Max nodded at her teacher, silently thanking him for encouraging her. ' _Just don't pay attention to Victoria and it'll be alright. You can do it, Super Max_.', she thought, trying to motivate herself. Gathering all her courage she lifted her head, her blue eyes locking with Mr. Jefferson's brown ones.

"One of my heroes is Salvador Dali. I believe he could truly freeze time. And I adore Julia Cameron's work. Her photography possesses a unique victorian vibe." She told them, being surprised that her own voice sounded so calm in her own ears.

Another student to her right, Kate Marsh, nodded in agreement. Max felt happy and relieved that there were other students here who weren't as bitchy as Victoria. Even Daniel who was stitting in the back of the room gave her a thumbs-up.

She swallowed and went on, "Other artists which I greatly admire are Robert Doisneau, James Hamilton, Eugene Smith, Henri Cartier-Bresson or Philip-Lorca diCorcia. I could name more but I'm afraid it would take too long."

Mr. Jefferson winked at her, seemingly content with her reply, "You named quite a few artists there who also served as an inspiration for me. I'm always glad to see a young student such as yourself, showing so much enthusiasm for photography. And I hope you will soon discover many more photographers who will aid you in your quest to expand your artistic vision."

Max quietly sighed in relief. It was something special to receive praise from Mark Jefferson himself. He was a professional after all. And it meant so much to her that he acknowledged the artists she cared so much about.

The art teacher turned around and faced the front side of the class again. "Since we have talked a lot about the photographers who inspire us today, I want you to write an essay about an artist who influenced you the most. This will be your homework and you have time until Friday to finish it."

There was a collective groan audible in the class but Mr. Jefferson ignored it, walking behind his desk and sitting down in his chair. He folded his hands and placed them on his desk, giving them all a stern look. "I want to thank everyone of you again for turning in your pictures. It helped me a lot to get a feel of all your different styles. Now I'd like to call on those who I believe had the most intriguing shots. Please wait and come to me once I called your name. The rest of you may start with their homework."

Max sighed and took a book about Salvador Dali out of her bag which she had borrowed from the school's library. She wanted to work on that essay but she couldn't really concentrate on her task. There were whispers and murmurs all around her and she could practically feel the nervousness in the air. It was clear that Mr. Jefferson would only name those who he deemed to be the most talented. And Max' self-confidence hit rock bottom when Victoria was the first one he called to the front.

Jefferson and the short-haired blond girl were talking in a low tone but she could make out a few scraps of their conversation here and there. She was sure that Mr. Jefferson praised Victoria's skills but he also criticized her for copying Avedon's style and gave her the advice to find her own style.

It was obvious that Victoria wasn't content with Jefferson's review of her photo. Her face was clearly betraying her disappointment when she strutted back to her desk, the intense scent of her rich perfume trailing behind her.

As she noticed Max staring at her, she grimaced in annoyance and snapped, "What are you looking at, Selfie Hipster?"

And Max quickly looked away, murmuring, "Nothing."

The girl was confused. She had seen a glimpse of Victoria's photo on the first day of school and she had thought that it was a great shot. In her mind it was a thousand times better than her silly selfie photo.

' _If Victoria's photo isn't good enough, then my photo must be the worst of them all_.' Max thought, already questioning her capabilities as a photographer again and doubting if it had been the right decision to attend Blackwell Academy in the first place. Maybe she didn't belong here. Maybe she wasn't good enough. And maybe Blackwell was out of her league.

Her fears were confirmed when the bell rang and Mr. Jefferson had called out several of his students but not her. It meant that her photo was so bad that her teacher didn't even feel the need to talk about it. Her head felt as if wrapped in cotton wool as she stood up and gathered her things. ' _Great, now I need to go to the bath room and wash my face with cold water. I'm such a loser._ ' She thought, letting her shoulders sink and feeling the resignation rise inside her.

As the young student walked towards the door, her mind deep in thought and her fingers already enclosing her earphone, a male voice called out to her and she stopped in her tracks. Max turned around and was surprised to see Mr. Jefferson looking straight at her. "Max, would you please accompany me to my office? We need to talk about your photo."

' _Shit. He wants me to come to his office because he doesn't want to embarrass me in front of the whole class. Why, thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I'm feeling even better now_.' She thought bitterly, trying to keep a straight face. She didn't want to burst out in tears. Not here. Not now. And certainly not in front of him.

In her mind she was already imagining the worst case scenario. ' _Oh, I'm very sorry to say this, Miss Caulfield, but your photos aren't good enough and regrettably, they don't match our standards. I strongly advise you not to pursue a career in photography... That's what he'll say. I know it_.'

On her way to Jefferson's office, following a few meters behind her art teacher, she ran into her friend Warren from science class. He waved his hand at her and his smile stretched from ear to ear, obviously happy to meet her here. "Yo, Maximum Overdrive, what's up?"

But she just shook her head, motioning to him that she didn't have time to chat now. "Later, ok, Warren? I have a meeting with Mr. Jefferson."

Warren probaby spotted the tension written all over her face, asking her in a funny raspy voice, "Houston, do we have a problem?"

Max gave him a weak smile, replying "I dunno, Apollo 13. Hopefully not."

"Don't worry so much, Max." She felt his hand softly pressing her shoulder and he grinned as if he had just remembered something to cheer her up. "I have some new sci-fi flicks i wanna show you. I'll be waiting outside, kay?", he whispered, winking.

"Ok, see you."

* * *

They had arrived at the door to Jefferson's office. The school hallways were already empty and they were the only ones left in this part of the building. Her teacher unlocked the door with a soft clicking sound and gestured her to enter. "Please, take a seat, Max.", he offered.

She nodded in silence and approached one of his chairs positioned in front of his large desk. His office was even larger than Principal Wells' office. ' _Must be one of the benefits of being a famous photographer_.' Max thought while she looked around, not being able to hide her apparent curiosity.

The walls were decorated with different black and white photo art prints. Most of them showed Jefferson's popular portrait photography to a great extent but there were also some sporadic black and white landscape photography prints, like Ansel Adams famous _The Tetons and the Snake River_. A marvelous piece which reminded her why black and white photography was considered as such a unique art form.

Max also noticed Mark Jefferson's graduate certificate of the American Academy of Art hanging on the wall right behind his desk. It instantly caught the eye of any visitor who entered this office. Her teacher was obviously very proud of it.

There were also huge cabinets on one side of the spacious room, their shelves filled with black binders, as well as art and photography books. The opposite side showed a huge modern glass showcase displaying an extensive collection of cameras of all different types and ages. There were some very old-looking polaroid cameras here, a few high-tech movie cameras there, monochrome cameras, system cameras, DSLR cameras and even more. The photo geek inside her swore she had entered heaven right now and her blue eyes stared in awe at Mr. Jefferson's compilation.

As her eyes swiftly skimmed through the cameras she got a glimpse of the newest Pentax DSLR model in his showcase and breathed, "Wowsers, are you kidding me? That's the new Pentax model K-1! It has an APS-C lens and it's supposed to be great for shooting in dark areas. I've read all the reviews about it on different cam sites. The test shots were all incredible, especially the pictures taken at night."

Mr. Jefferson was now sitting behind his desk and chuckled lightly, seemingly amused about her reaction. "I've bought it some days ago. But unfortunately I didn't have the time to shoot some test images yet."

' _Holy shit, I'm officially jealous now, that camera collection is super crazy_.' Max thought.

"I must confess that collecting cameras is one of my never-ending addictions. It had started when I was a young kid and now this collection has become so huge, that there's even not enough display space in my house here at Arcadia Bay. So I'm really glad Principal Wells allowed me to move some of my stuff here." Her teacher explained and then he opened a top drawer of his desk to seize a folder. He pulled it out and Max wondered what this folder contained. It looked quite expensive. It was made up of thick high-quality japanese washi paper, showing a delicate pattern of black and white ink paintings of handpainted autumn leaves.

His fingers swiftly opened the intricate strap, searching through the folder's contents and she then recognized her photo in his hand. Mr. Jefferson flipped it around so that she could look at her own selfie image.

Max gulped as she noticed that her teacher's eyes were solely locked on hers again, seemingly expectant of her answer. "Now Max, would you please elaborate how the idea of this picture came to your mind? What exactly was your thought process behind it?"

Max abruptly felt trapped in this room. She wanted to hide from his penetrating eyes and feared that Mr. Jefferson would only laugh at her explanation. That it was just spontaneous intuition which had produced this piece of nonsense. But she also knew that if she wanted to be an artist, she had to be able to defend her work against any critic.

So she mustered all her courage and tried to explain the idea behind her photo. "I was sitting at the fountain outside and watched my reflection in the sparkling water. And I instantly had this thought that the sun's dancing lights on the water surface would make a great shot there."

She looked down for a moment, murmuring "I know I should have considered other options, like using a tripod for example, or trying a different angle. I'm such an amateur."

Max lifted her head again and continued with an insecure voice, "I know it's no excuse but I was acting on pure instinct. It probably sounds weird yet it felt right to me. I took my camera and just _captured the moment_." She didn't miss how his eyes lit up behind his glasses when she unconsciously quoted his book.

"You've read one of my books?", he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Max nodded, admitting "Yes, a dozen times in fact. It has somehow become my new photography bible." As realization hit her what she had just said, she coughed and mentally cursed herself, ' _Great, idiot, now you've done it again. He must think you're a silly fan_.'

But to her surprise Mr. Jefferson seemed genuinely pleased, he just nodded and waited for her to go on.

The young girl cleared her throat, stammering. "That's all, I-I guess. It was pure intuition. I know this shot is terrible. And I apologize for that. My silly retro selfies can't even be called a style and I know that others like Evan or Victoria are way ahead of me in terms of skill and experience. I promise I'll try to practice more, to become better."

Max shrunk in her seat and felt exhausted, dreading her teacher's opinion of her work. ' _Time to face bitter reality_.'

To her surprise, his stern gaze towards her softened a little and he sighed. "You really have to work on your confidence as an artist, Max. _This_ is an impressive self-portrait and you should be proud of yourself."

"Wait, what?" she asked, a baffled expression showing on her face.

He held up her picture conspicuously, tipping a finger against it and complimenting her in an approving tone, "Like I said, I think this is a great shot. You truly _captured the moment_ in this piece. This simple photo conveys your passion, your fever to take images."

His brown eyes looked more intense now as he stated. " _You_ have a gift, Max. You have an eye which allows you to frame the world as you envision it."

Max couldn't quite believe what she had just heard. This was so surreal. It felt like a dream and she wanted to pinch her arm to remind herself that this was reality. That Mr. Jefferson was indeed praising her.

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I honestly don't know what to say.", Max murmured, clearly being at a loss for words.

"Ssssh, it's ok, Max." His soothing voice tried to calm her and he continued, "I just wanted you to know that I truly believe you're a promising new talent. And I may sound like a broken record here, but I assure you, you have this talent, Max. Which is also another reason why I wanted to have this conversation with you in private."

"I-I don't think I understand...", she stammered, not comprehending what he was trying to tell her.

Mr. Jefferson's brown eyes showed such a strong intensity now, that Max instantly felt like she wanted to look away. But she couldn't. His gaze was mesmerizing. "I'd like to make an offer, Max. And I want you to know that this is an opportunity which I don't grant many of my students."

He slightly leaned forward in his seat and she felt herself melting in those dark eyes as he went on, "As I've told you before you have a gift. And I want to guide you, Max, to help you realize your vision and nurture your talent. To assist you becoming what you're meant to be. A great artist. Would you accept my offer to give you private lessons?"

Max could feel her head spinning and the heat rising in her cheeks. She had anticipated anything but she certainly didn't expect Mr. Jefferson to offer her private lessons. That he would have such a strong belief in her talent as a photographer was unbelievable. Especially since she always thought that her pictures were average at best in comparison to other top students like Evan or Stella. Why would he choose her of all things? ' _Wowsers! If this is a dream, I don't wanna wake up again. Ever_.'

She clearly had a hard time to process it all as she saw Mr. Jefferson patiently waiting for her answer."I-I don't know if my parents can afford these lessons." Max replied, all her worries audible in her voice. It had been the first thing which came to her mind. How can her family pay a famous Blackwell teacher? And it wasn't just any Blackwell teacher. It was Mark Jefferson. _The_ Mark Jefferson. She had been in luck to get the scholarship and that her parents didn't need to pay anything. But to be able to afford _this_ , it was surely out of the question for them.

To her surprise, the man sitting opposite to her only smiled at her, as if her answer somehow amused him. "I'm aware that my salary lies considerably above your price range. And that's why I'm offering these lessons free of charge."

"For _free_?" Max repeated flabbergasted, her eyes wide open in disbelief. "Are you cereal?"

Mr. Jefferson laughed, nodding, "Trust me, I'm serious, Max."

She blinked. It was all too much to comprehend and it all happened too sudden. He had caught her completely off guard. "I still don't understand this, Mr. Jefferson. There are other students in my class. Better students. Like Evan, or Victoria. I-I don't get why you're choosing me of all people."

"I choose you because I believe you have the most potential, Max. So what do you say?" He asked her.

"Are there more students who receive these private lessons?" Max wanted to know.

"Only one. _He_ is also very talented, just like you. But if I had to choose between the two of you, you would be the winner." Mr. Jefferson told her and put forth his hand, asking her again. "Do you accept, Max?"

For a moment Max just stared at his outstretched hand, wondering if she should really accept his offer. She was sure that private lessons would really help her to improve her skills to use her camera more effectively and to become a better photographer. And she would surely never get such a chance again. Even the thought alone to spend time with her idol, to let him guide her, it sent chills down her spine. The offer was so tempting, she knew she couldn't resist. Although she had worries that other students would most probably hate her if they found out about that arrangement.

Especially Victoria Chase, that crazy Jefferson groupie in her class. That rich snob was always clinging to her art teacher like a limpet. She probably had her own Jefferson shrine at her dorm room. There was no doubt that Victoria would make Max' life miserable if she got to hear about their lessons. But still, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she wanted to take it.

Max nodded and took his hand in hers, shaking it. "I accept your offer, Mr. Jefferson."

His eyes gleamed behind his spectacles, a pleased smile playing on his lips, "Thank you, Max. You made the right decision. And I promise you, you won't regret it."

Instantly her ocean-blue eyes lit up as her gaze traveled to the windows in the back of the office, becoming aware of a special moment. The warm sunlight was slowly fading away, covering the room in a wonderful contrast of light and dark. And Mr. Jefferson seemed to be at the center of the scene, shadows creeping over one half of his face while the other half was illuminated by golden sunlight. Without thinking she took her analog camera out of her bag and stood up, instinctively searching for the right angle and focusing on her model.

At first Mark Jefferson gave her a quizzical look as Max was standing there with her old analog camera. But he soon realized what she was after, slightly tilting his head and whispering with a knowing smile "Always take the shot."

Hearing his cue, Max pressed the shutter and breathed, "Your number one rule of photography, I know."

"Someone has been reading as well as posing. Very good, Max." He complimented her and Max could already feel herself blushing.

She couldn't wait for the film to develop. This was definitely a great shot, she knew it.

Mr. Jefferson held out his hand, motioning to her picture, "May I have a look?"

She nodded, handing him her still developing photo and wondered what he might think about her. He had just witnessed how her body had just moved on its own, acting on pure instinct. ' _When my camera eye senses a special moment, I'm always behaving like a robot. My hand automatically grabs my camera and the last thing I hear is the click of the shutter in my ears. It's super weird_.'

Her art teacher examined the photo in his hand, admiring her work. "This is a good shot. But I think it only reaches perfection if it were captured in black and white. A higher tonal contrast would add more strength, more emotion to your picture."

Max took her photo back and analyzed it, frowning. Mr. Jefferson was right. If this would have been shot in black and white, it would totally look and more importantly feel different. There was an ominous and mysterious atmosphere permeating her photo. As if there was darkness hiding inside this man, the light only serving as a mask. ' _Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_.' She thought.

He cleared his throat, her attention shifting back to him. "Well, I think there are many ways to improve your photography. But don't worry, Max. We have all the time in the world and I'm really looking forward to our shared lessons."

Max nodded. "Yes, me too, Mr. Jefferson."


	3. Chapter 2: Lessons

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: A big thank you to Debra Smith and TheAyaPapaya for reviewing, it's very much appreciated.**_

 **Chapter 2: Lessons**

It was finally Saturday. The day Max Caulfield had her first private lesson with her art lecturer Mr. Jefferson. On the one hand she couldn't wait to meet him but on the other hand she felt so nervous and anxious that she couldn't sleep much the whole night. She even had thoughts to cancel this whole endeavor, perhaps writing an apology in an e-mail that she was ill.

 _'No, I can't do this to Mr. Jefferson.'_ Max reminded herself, knowing that Mr. Jefferson offered his precious free time just to teach her.

 _'He told me I have a gift.'_ She remembered. He believed in her, in her talent and she didn't want to let him down or disappoint him.

Another problem was her assignment for their lesson. Mr. Jefferson had asked her to bring her portfolio to the meeting but Max didn't have one. Sure, she had accumulated thousands of pictures over the past years, yet she never found the time or the leisure to put together her own portfolio. Many of her pictures were good, yes, but in her eyes they weren't great shots.

At any rate not good enough to be a part of a compelling portfolio which displayed a variety of her photography techniques and skills.

And this was the reason why she was still sitting here on the dark carpet of her dorm room. A pile of her photos in front of her and her hands sorting through the analog pictures with a skeptical frown on her face.

 _'I can't show this stuff to Mr. Jefferson. He would only laugh at me.'_ She thought, rubbing the back of her neck to get the tension out of her muscles.

Max wanted to present a small a selection of photos to her teacher, to show him that she was at least trying to make an effort. It took her several hours to settle eventually for five photos which she believed were perfectly executed shots.

 _'Not really great but better than nothing.'_ She sighed and carefully put the photos inside an envelope.

Halfway satisfied with her choice Max stood up finally, stretched her limbs and walked straight to the bathroom. After taking a long refreshing shower she rushed back to get dressed. They had agreed to meet down at the parking lot of Arcadia Bay's lighthouse at 3 pm and there wasn't much time left. A quick look at the clock confirmed her fears, only one hour left.

The weather was sunny and warm today and Max decided to ride her old road racer for the first time since arriving at Blackwell Academy. Two years ago her parents had bought her one at a garage sale as a gift. That time had been her _Tour de France_ fangirl phase where she had watched all the stage races and had been fascinated by the cyclists who climbed enormous mountains just on their bikes. Since watching that race on TV she had always wished to climb a mountain herself too one day. Only she and her bike. It was a silly dream of a young teenager but what was life without dreams?

And even if that dream would never come true, she would still enjoy riding the streets with her road racer. An older Pinarello racer model in a flashy red color which allowed her to increase her speed and sprint on flat routes, enjoying the feel of cold head wind on her sweating skin. In her mind nothing could beat that sensation.

 _'I'll probably encounter some good photo opportunities while riding my bike. The weather is perfect today and it's way better than taking the bus.'_

Max skimmed through her wardrobe in a hurry and took her blue jeans and her black t-shirt showing the death's head moth, a reference to the movie _Silence of the lambs_. It was one of her all-time favorite films. Max thought that it wasn't just a typical serial killer thriller but more like a modern version of the Beauty and the Beast.

And to Max the moth itself was a symbol of destruction. According to Thomas Harris' book the moth was _anything, that gradually, silently eats, consumes or wages any other thing_. In other words, it was a perfect metaphor for the antagonist of the novel, Hannibal Lecter.

She quickly ate some sandwiches, took her woven fabric bag and left the room. But she didn't get very far as Victoria and her minions Taylor and Courtney blocked her path.

"Look, who we have here. It's Blackwell's wannabe hipster who thinks she's _so_ cool with her stupid analog camera." Victoria sneered while her two friends started to giggle next to her.

 _'Really? What's her fucking problem? How old is she? Twelve?'_ Max wondered but tried to stay calm. She hated bullies and she had hoped that Blackwell Academy would be different than her high school in Seattle. But it was even worse here.

"I don't have time for that, Victoria." Max said irritated, trying to push through but the blond girl moved in front of her and put her hands on her hips, her dark eyes glaring down at her.

"Oh, you _will listen_ to me, you fake hipster. Even Mark, Mr. Jefferson thinks that your selfie crap is bullshit. Everybody knows that. I hope he made it clear to you how shitty your selfies really are when he invited you to his office the other day."

 _'Oh, so that's what it's all about.'_ Max realized and struggled not to smile. Instead she just crossed her arms and replied in a cool tone. "Of course you know it all, don't you, Victoria? Why don't you let me worry about my _poor_ selfies and you care about your own photography?"

Victoria bragged "My photography was even displayed at a Seattle art gallery a few weeks ago. But I doubt they would accept your dumb selfies there. Those galleries have to uphold some quality standards, you know?"

Max rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Victoria. Are you finished now?"

Victoria wanted to go on but thankfully Dana suddenly stepped in between them and helped Max to get away. "Didn't get your precious beauty sleep, Vic? Why don't you go now? Nathan is already waiting for you."

Victoria glared at them one last time and stumped away, her two friends hurrying after her like two clingy dog puppies.

"Sorry about that, Max. Victoria can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." Dana grimaced while her eyes followed Victoria leaving the floor.

Max smiled. "It's okay, I'm glad you helped me out there, Dana."

The pretty cheerleader winked at her. "Anytime, Max. We Blackwell chicas have to stick together, right?"

Max nodded. "Right."

"By the way, our cheerleader team is preparing a little welcome party for our new Bigfoot team members this evening. Wanna join us and party?" Dana asked and swayed her hips, showing her smooth dance moves.

"Thanks for asking but I don't think I have time today. I'll definitely come to your Halloween party though, promise." Max answered, hoping that Dana wouldn't be too disappointed again. It was the second time she declined a party invitation. Max just wasn't in the party mood. But then again, she wasn't even a party animal to begin with.

"Oh, you better not miss our Halloween party. It's gonna be a blast." Dana assured her and gave her a curious look. "So, what are you up to today? Dating Warren?"

Max laughed and held up her polaroid camera. "I want to take advantage of that great weather and try to find some nice photo locations."

"You really are a camera, Max. Have fun." Dana said and waved her goodbye.

"Thank you. You too, Dana." Max smiled and went to the exit, setting off for Blackwell's bicycle area.

All her thoughts were returning to her first lesson with Mr. Jefferson and her excitement came back full force. What would it be like to be alone with him, to have his full attention solely on her? And would he be disappointed that she didn't have a portfolio?

 _'Chillax, Maximus. It's gonna be alright.'_ She told herself as she took her red bike and left for the street which was next to the beach. There she would have a great view of the sea and hopefully get some nice shots along the way to the old lighthouse.

* * *

It turned out that her ride to the lighthouse was worth it as she had the chance to get some really beautiful shots there. Like photos of a lonely fisherman sitting in his boat, a seagull resting on a pole at the beach and staring at the ocean or a young kid on a skateboard trying out some new cool moves.

While Max had been in luck with her shots, she had also encountered bad luck on her way up to the parking lot. She had been so lost in thought about her upcoming appointment with Mr. Jefferson that she didn't notice a huge road hole right in front of her. She slipped, lost her balance and fell sideways with her bike, feeling her right elbow scraping against the hard asphalt ground.

Max winced as she felt the searing pain and examined her wound, seeing a trail of blood run down her forearm.

But her greater worry was her analog camera. Her hands took it out of her bag and turned it around, her eyes scanning it for any damage. _'Damn it, I'm such a klutz! I hope my camera isn't broken. Mum and Dad will kill me if they have to buy me a new one.'_

She sighed in relief when she realized that her camera somehow seemed to have survived her fall.

 _'I really should be more careful. Daydreaming in class is okay, Max. But you shouldn't do it on the road.'_

As Max finally arrived at her destination, her eyes immediately spotted Mr. Jefferson leaning against his car, a dark gray sedan which was most likely quite expensive. Her teacher didn't seem to detect her arrival, he was focused on adjusting the settings of his camera.

The young woman couldn't help but stare at him for a moment. Mr. Jefferson looked perfect and impeccable as always, wearing a black suit jacket over a white shirt and matching dark blue jeans. As she came closer, he looked up and gave her a warm smile. "Hi Max, I'm glad you made it."

Max smiled in return. "Hey, Mr. Jefferson."

Her teacher's eyes went straight to her wound and he raised his eyebrows. "Max, are you alright? Your arm..."

But Max dismissed it quickly, murmuring. "Just a little accident. It's only a scratch." She didn't want Mr. Jefferson to worry about her.

The man carefully took her arm in his hands and inspected the wound. "It's still bleeding. Come here and let me treat that before it gets infected. I have a first aid kit in my car."

At first she wanted to protest but Mr. Jefferson gave her a stern look and she consented, sighing in defeat. "Okay, fine. Although I think it isn't really necessary."

He opened the kit and took out antiseptic spray and a gauze swab to clean the wound. When his fingers pressed gently against her skin to disinfect the cut Max gritted her teeth, feeling that spot on her arm burn like fire every time he touched it.

His brown eyes were filled with concern as he watched her pained expression, but there was also something else there in his eyes, something darker. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Shhh, it's okay, Max. We're almost finished." He told her and used both of his hands to apply a large band-aid.

"Better?" he asked and Max nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Mr. Jefferson."

He gestured to her bike. "That's really a fine road racer you have here. It must be fun to ride this bike."

"Well, it's fun for speed junkies." She admitted.

Mr. Jefferson chuckled. "I never knew you were into the thrill of speed."

Max smiled. "Nothing beats that sensation."

He gave her a wink. "Trust me, Max. There are lots of _other ways_ to have _that kind_ of sensation."

She didn't understand what he was implying but she didn't miss the underlying tone here, feeling her cheeks reddening and becoming flustered at his comment.

 _'Don't even think about it, Max. He's your teacher and you're his student.'_ She reprimanded herself.

"I think we should go now and enjoy the view from up there. And it's also a good opportunity to get some test shots." With that he gestured to his camera. Max instantly recognized the Pentax K-1 model from his office and felt her excitement rise.

"Wowsers, I'd really like to try out this camera too." She breathed.

"Sure. I want to see how you handle a DSLR camera. A good photographer should be versatile and I'd always advise my students to experiment with different camera types, to get a feel for them and explore other possibilities to take your pictures." He explained and motioned her to follow him.

They went up the familiar hiking trail which she remembered from her childhood. _'Chloe and I went up here all the time as kids. This place hasn't really changed much. It's the same as in my memories. Only the sound of our laughter is missing.'_

Max felt guilt overcoming her. She had wanted to call Chloe since her return to Arcadia Bay. But she was never brave enough to do so. After Chloe's dad William died and Max had moved to Seattle, their contact had stopped. She had abandoned her best friend when she was at the most vulnerable. A time when she had needed Max the most. And it was Max' fault for the most part because she never called Chloe or wrote her any letters.

Her greatest fear was that Chloe might hate her now after all these years, that she would reject her, never wanting to be friends again. And Max couldn't even blame her if she would react this way.

 _'I know, I'm the worst friend ever, Chloe. And there's no excuse for my shitty behavior. You deserve a better friend than me.'_ Max thought.

It only got worse when Max and Mr. Jefferson reached the lighthouse and she recognized the carving _BFF pirates 2008_ on one of the tree stumps.

 _'Oh, I remember this. Chloe drew it to mark our pirate tree fort. So we'd always be able to find each other in case of emergency.'_ Max recalled, feeling even more sad and guilty now.

Mr. Jefferson must have noticed her being upset. He came closer and gave her a concerned look. "Max, is everything alright? You seem a bit down."

Max looked up at him. "I just remembered that I visited this lighthouse many times with my best friend. We used to play here when we were kids. But after her father died and I had to move to Seattle with my parents, we kinda grew apart. I thought about calling her but I'm afraid I might not be able to patch things up with her."

Her teacher took her hand and guided her to the bench. They sat down and he began. "You know, I also had a good friend who I was close too when I was still a student. We both shared the same dream to become a successful photographer one day. It's not like we got into a fight or anything but things kind of got awkward between us and we grew apart."

"What happened with your friend? Did you meet him again?" Max wanted to know, thinking there was some sort of resemblance to her friendship with Chloe.

"I met him for the first time in fifteen years and we had a great time. Jason is married now and has two children. And he's working as a wedding photographer in Vegas. It's not the career he always wanted but still, he's happy. And I am happy for him. I believe we were both able to feel that way because we've both matured over the years."

Mr. Jefferson was watching the dark blue sea beneath them, his expression thoughtful as he turned to her. "My point is, even if you and your friend grew apart, I'm sure you've shared moments together that are irreplaceable. And no matter how much time passes, that won't disappear and no one can take that away from you. That goes for you, and also for your friend."

Max smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. I think I'm feeling better now."

"Then I guess it's about time you let me have a look at your portfolio." He said, his face expectant.

Max swallowed and stammered. "I, um, I don't have a portfolio."

He looked at her disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow. "You _don't_ have one?"

"No, but I'm working on it. And I brought some photos which I would like to use for my portfolio selection." Max replied and gave him the envelope which contained her pictures.

Mr. Jefferson opened the envelope and began to analyze her photos, taking his time to scrutinize each and every photo closely. Max couldn't stop feeling very nervous watching him observe her work. Was it good enough or would he criticize her? She couldn't say. And it also felt strange to let him see those shots. As if she was showing him a secret part of her that no one else was allowed to see.

A smile played on Mr. Jefferson's lips as he finally looked up. "These are really good shots, Max. I especially like _this_ one." He handed her a photo which she was also fond of.

It was a shot of her dressed in a shiny red woven silk kimono showing colorful flowers and cranes, her body lying on a field of grass and her hand holding a white cherry blossom while her blue eyes were staring at the sky as if she was daydreaming. The kimono had been her aunt's gift which she had brought back from her vacation in Japan. And Max had been eager to try it on for a photo session.

Max recalled that she had lots of fun taking this picture. She had chosen a japanese garden as location and had worked with a tripod and self-timer to get the angle right.

He complimented her. "The photo composition is really good here, by positioning yourself to one side of the frame you left space to look into. This is a great technique to master, Max. You're telling the viewer what's important in the frame and you make the background a part of your story. And I see you experimented with a wide aperture to capture a very shallow depth of field. Good work."

Max felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, muttering. "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. But I still think that I'm an amateur and that I need to learn a lot more to get better shots."

"Of course. But that's the reason why we're here, right? To help you gain more knowledge and experience."

Mr. Jefferson gave her a strict look now. "And you should really work on building up that portfolio. It's the calling card of any photographer."

"Yeah, I'll try to make it my first priority." She promised.

His expression softened. "Very good, Max. Just tell me if you need any help with that."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Jefferson." Max said, being glad that he offered his assistance in the matter.

"Now Max, would you like to try shooting some test images with this camera?" He asked her.

"Sure, I'd love to." Max replied and carefully took his Pentax in her hands while her eyes skimmed through the controls, becoming aware of the fact that a DSLR camera had a lot more setting possibilities than her simple analog camera.

 _'What's up with all these buttons?'_ She wondered, knowing again why she preferred her polaroid camera and avoided those high-tech digital cameras.

Mr. Jefferson moved closer to her on the wooden bench, his observant eyes watching her work with his camera, seeing her fingertips scroll through the screen's menu, adjusting the aperture, the shutter speed and the ISO.

Max couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous. Her teacher was so close to her, the fragrance of his sandalwood and citrus cologne filling her nostrils. It was difficult to remain calm and concentrated.

"I think I got it." She finally murmured, already standing up and walking to the edge of the cliff to get a better view of Arcadia Bay.

As she searched for the right angle and used the zooming function, she suddenly felt dizzy there. And she staggered for a few seconds, noticing that her legs felt wobbly like gum beneath her.

"Max, please watch your step!" She heard Mr. Jefferson call behind her and she instinctively took a few steps backwards, her hand rubbing her forehead.

"I'm okay." She muttered. "Just feeling a little dizzy."

 _'That's what happens when you ride your road racer after such a long time, dummy. My legs feel awful and I'll probably have some nice sore muscles tomorrow.'_ She thought and was surprised when she noticed a hand grasp her arm in a firm grip.

"I think you should sit down and rest for a moment, Max." He suggested and led her back to the bench.

Max couldn't believe that this had happened. She had been looking forward to try some test shots and now she was sitting here like a sick person. It was embarrassing.

Mr. Jefferson gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Max. I can also shoot some test images."

She felt as if his gaze was now piercing her as he asked. "Would you like to be my model, Max? I'd love to have you in front of my camera eye."

His suggestion caught her completely off-guard, his gaze was so intense. She stammered. "Um, yes, that's o-okay, I-I guess."

"Are you really okay?" He wanted to know, his eyes locking upon her.

"I think, I-I'm fine. As long as it's not sensual art photography..." Max muttered, suddenly feeling as if the warmth of her whole body was gathering in her head by now.

Mr. Jefferson seemed amused and chuckled. "Nude photography is a very delicate subject matter and not every photographer is able to pull it off in a tasteful manner."

Max became curious and asked him."So you've already worked with nude models?"

"Yes, but only a few times. It's very difficult to find a suitable model because you need a lot of trust between the photographer and your model. There has to be a very special connection. This sort of photography is a simplistic art form. It's portraiture stripped of culture, civilization or association. All that is left is pure human emotion." He explained and leaned closer, smiling. "But don't worry. I won't ask you to take off your clothes. I still prefer _my_ style of portraiture. Well, do you think you're ready for some test shots?"

Max nodded, feeling her nervousness rise. "Sure. Should I... I don't know, do anything? Like posing?"

"Just relax and be yourself, Max" He advised her and already moved farther away from her, adjusting his camera and searching for the perfect angle.

 _'Try to relax? That's easy to say. Especially if it's Mark Jefferson who is shooting you. It's so surreal.'_ Max thought.

When he was finished with his preparations, his gaze came back up to meet hers, the anticipation clearly visible on his face. "Let's begin our session, shall we?"

Max felt her whole body tense when she saw Mr. Jefferson bringing his camera to his right eye. She tried to relax but she couldn't. She felt uncomfortable and exposed in front of his lens. It was odd. She never felt that way when she took pictures of herself. This was different though. Modeling for someone else was personal, it was intimate. She knew she had to allow her walls to come down, to be vulnerable and open. To allow Mr. Jefferson to see her like she had never seen herself before. And maybe he would be able to see right through her, into her inner self, her soul.

The thought was scary but at the same time it also sent shivers down her spine. _'Why am I so nervous? My idol is framing me his way. This should be a very unique moment but why am I so unsettled to be captured by him?'_

She remembered how she had admired Mr. Jefferson's work displayed in front of Blackwell Academy. This kind of portraiture, his style of black and white photography was so different from her own style. Yet, it fascinated her. There was darkness in his art, it felt cold and distant. Still at the same time it evoked emotion. The contrast of light and shadow emphasized certain aspects in his pictures. Facial features became more prominent and the eyes of his models were always the focal point of his images. Those eyes were like doors to their soul, drawing the immediate focus of the viewer.

If Mr. Jefferson's photography represented darkness, then her pictures showed the light. Her art was colorful and vibrant. Her retro selfie style was instantaneous and completely untainted from editing and manipulation. Her photos conveyed warmth and hope, capturing those simple moments of everyday life.

Maybe that was the reason why it was so tempting to be framed by Mr. Jefferson. His style was the complete opposite of hers and she wondered what his camera would bring out in her. _'I 'm curious how I will look in his beautiful black and white portraiture style. This is so awkward. I don't understand it. What's happening to me?'_

Max wanted to chill but her body was frozen and she felt herself shrinking on the bench. Mr. Jefferson lowered his camera and frowned. For a moment she thought she saw a hint of frustration on his features. But it was soon replaced by concern as he gave her a sympathetic look. "Max, you don't have to do this if you're not feeling comfortable."

"No, I-I want to do this. I-It's just that I-I feel so nervous around you and I don't know how to handle it." She muttered in a low tone, averting her eyes.

Mr. Jefferson approached her and knelt down in front of her. "Shhh, it's okay, Max. I know how you feel. My sheer presence can sometimes be overwhelming and many feel intimidated by the name Mark Jefferson. But please, don't be."

He took her hand and pressed her palm directly against his chest. She sensed the warmth beneath the fabric of his shirt, feeling every single beat of his heart. Mr. Jefferson's eyes bored into hers. "Do you _see_? I'm a real person, just as you."

The palm of his other hand touched the point where he could feel her heart racing now, his heat seeping into her skin.

 _'Oh my gosh, is this really happening? My heart is pounding like crazy.'_ This sudden intimacy was too much, it was overbearing her, causing her body to tremble slightly under his touch.

They were both so close to each other that she could already feel his breath on her skin. "And we both share the same passion and the same fever for photography. We are not so different. You and I. Don't be intimidated by the fame or by my big name."

Her teacher pulled back and she couldn't help but stare at him. This was such an intimate gesture and Max had this feeling that he really tried to calm her and to still her uneasiness.

She gulped and asked. "Do you have any tips how to deal with this nervousness?"

He leaned back and adjusted his glasses, explaining. "Well, if I sense nervousness I would tell my models to relax. We' d go and have a cup of coffee together and chat about the upcoming photo shooting."

Mr. Jefferson eyed her now, his gaze thoughtful. "In your case I would ask you if there's anything that helps you to relax. I prefer to listen to Jazz music when I'm editing my photos for instance."

As he mentioned music her face lit up instantly. "That might work. My music always helps me a lot to calm my nerves and chill."

"Very good, Max. You can also try to lie down here. Perhaps this is more comfortable than a sitting position." Max nodded silently and allowed him to move her legs up, to help her getting into a fitting pose.

Her hands grabbed her earphones and her mp3 player, already toggling through her playlist and selecting the song _To all of you_ by Syd Matters.

Before she could hit the play button, she heard him say. "And don't pay attention to my camera. Just ignore it and be yourself. "

With that he took his DSLR camera again and left the bench, giving her the required time to let herself relax. And Max attempted to shift her concentration solely on the song, focusing only on the soothing sound of the guitar and the deep singing voice of Syd Matters. The soft music almost lulled her into sleep.

From the corner of her eye Max barely noticed the silhouette of Mark Jefferson as he strode around her, changing angles and positions. His camera had become an extension of his body by now, the way his hands operated it was both elegant and methodical.

Her blue eyes gazed at the sky now, watching the clouds above and forgetting the flashes of light as Mr. Jefferson continued taking several shots. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, letting her mind drift away.

If Max would throw a glance at him now, she would've seen him pause, his intent eyes fixated on her and a satisfied smile parting his lips.

"If only you could see yourself now, Max. You're truly breathtaking." He whispered in a soft voice.

Max didn't hear him. She was so absorbed in her music that she was startled when his hand gently shook her shoulder. Shooting up, her blue eyes blinked in confusion, needing a few seconds to orientate herself. Mr. Jefferson's tall figure was hovering above her as she fumbled to pull the earphones from her ears and turned off her player.

"I was able to get some amazing shots. Do you want to have a look?" He asked her.

"Sure." Max replied, feeling very nervous again and wondering how these photos turned out.

Mr. Jefferson turned on the small screen of his camera and browsed through the pictures, explaining his approach. "First I used wider angles to capture the background to simplify the scene and fill the frame. I also had to consider the lighting here and there."

Max' eyes were glued to the screen while she listened to his explanations. It helped her to comprehend his approach. And watching his work gave her inspiration and a new perspective for her own photography.

The camera's screen displayed focused portraits and Max didn't realize that she held her breath now, she couldn't believe how beautiful her face looked in these shots.

"I've switched my camera to monochrome mode here. Although I think it's better to use an actual monochrome camera for these purposes. Anyway, I'd say these shots turned out pretty good. Though I'm sure the lighting would have been better in a studio environment. The sunlight is a bit harsh here." He told her, his finger pointing at certain areas of the photo.

There was another close-up of her face now and Max thought that this shot was the best of them. Her facial expression was more prominent in black and white. It was serene and dreamy, her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were shining here. He had purposefully used her eyes as a focal point, highlighting them without the distraction of color, giving this image more impact.

"My eyes..." Max whispered, her finger absentmindedly touching the screen and tracing the shape of her eyes. His camera was so close to her face in this photo that she could even recognize the reflection of his lens in her eyes.

Mr. Jefferson turned his head to look at her, a strange fascination visible in his dark eyes as he agreed. "It's a _captivating sight_ , isn't it?"

"Yes, it's beautiful, Mr. Jefferson. I don't know what to say. I've never seen myself like that." She admitted and looked at him now. "Would it be possible to get a copy of this photo?"

He smiled, nodding. "Of course, Max. And I'm glad you like my work."

Max beamed at him. "Thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson."

 _'Wowsers, I love it. It's incredible how his style can capture me this way. It's as if this face is not my own. I look so different here.'_ She thought.

Her teacher handed her his camera now. "I guess it's your turn now, Max. Show me how you would frame Arcadia Bay."

Their lesson ended with her taking pictures of Arcadia Bay and reviewing her shots together. Once again she felt so thankful that Mr. Jefferson had granted her this opportunity to learn more about photography. After watching herself in black and white, it had sparked her interest in this style and she couldn't wait to learn more about it.


	4. Chapter 3: Jealousy

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: A big thank you to Debra Smith, TheAyaPapaya, tur1823 and Velial13 for reviewing. It's very much appreciated.**_

 **Chapter 3: Jealousy**

It was already late in the evening as Mark Jefferson sat alone at his desk in his home office room, editing his newest photos. He always preferred to work late at night. Darkness had always played a vital aspect in his art. It gave him inspiration and helped him to observe his work in a new light. Above all Jefferson felt more awake and more efficient during the night hours. He couldn't deny that he was a night owl after all.

His whole room was illuminated in dim light and quiet jazz music was playing in the background. It was the perfect atmosphere to concentrate on his task and to produce the best results.

Mr. Jefferson took a nip of his hot espresso, his brown eyes fixed on the large computer screen as he adjusted the tonal values and used the dodge and burn tool of his Neonvault graphics software to create a sense of depth. This way he could affect the shadows, midtones and highlights, generating a better transition from dark to light to make his subject more prominent in the foreground.

It was the shot which had fascinated his new private student the most. The shot of Max Caulfield looking up at the sky, her facial expression dreamy and calm. And her eyes...

 _'Christ, look at those eyes...'_ The art teacher thought and couldn't help but stare at her image, the captivation clearly visible on his facial features. He loved her eyes, that shine there in her clear blue eyes. Eyes so blue that they reminded him of the pure bright sea water of the indian ocean. They radiated an aura of hope and optimism, highlighting her innocence.

But he also had that feeling that there was more to Max Caulfield, much more which was waiting for him to be explored. He hadn't seen everything of her yet. It meant that he'd have to invest more time to get to know her better which would put his patience to a real test.

There was this tingling sensation in his fingers whenever Max was around him. A tempting voice in his head, beckoning him to take her. In the beginning he had only entertained the notion that Max could become his model. Especially since he already had his eyes on sweet Kate Marsh as his next subject for a very long time. To him she was the personification of purity and innocence. Kate was an angel and she possessed all qualities to become the highlight of his artwork.

However during his latest test photo session with Max this idea to frame her soon became more than just an idea in his mind. This session revealed all the possibilities what he could achieve with Max being his model. This experience stirred something within him and he realized this session wasn't enough to sate his desire. And it became harder and harder to fight this growing urge to get her to his dark room. As Max had been lying there on the bench at the lighthouse, he almost conceded. Almost.

On the one hand it was still too early. There was so much more she hadn't showed him yet. And to truly capture her, to capture her essence so to speak, meant he had to know everything there was to know about her. Who was this Maxine Caulfield? What was going on in that dreamy mind of hers? What was she hiding behind those beautiful blue eyes? Would she allow him to get a glimpse of her soul?

Unfortunately his charm didn't seem to work on her as it did on his other female students. Ambitious women like Victoria Chase were literally hanging on his every word during his lectures, trying to flirt with their teacher to win his affection. They only saw the fame and glory the name Mark Jefferson represented, only interested in advancing their own career.

But Max was different. She was shy and humble and lacked self-confidence like many great artists before her. He always saw this young student scribbling in her notebook, her expression ever thoughtful, a dreamer lost in her own world.

Sometimes she would look up from her notes and their eyes would meet briefly. And then she would quickly avert her gaze as if she was pretending not to see him. Max eluded him. It wouldn't be as easy as Rachel Amber to seduce her.

Rachel wanted so desperately to be a model, to pursue this new dream after she had given up her ambition to become an actress. Her new longing brought her to him, like a moth drawn to his flame.

This young and complex woman wanted to complete her portfolio with his magnificent black and white shots of her. She craved his attention and had been fascinated by his art. He was her ticket out of Arcadia Bay and her best chance to become a star model in LA.

Sadly, Rachel didn't have what he was initially looking for in his subjects. She was far from innocent but she had other qualities which made it worth to capture her. To him she was like a chameleon, all the layers of her personality offering so many different visual angles for his camera to uncover.

He hadn't encountered any problems to frame her the way he wanted to. They both needed one another and so it was only a question of time till they both came to a mutual agreement.

Sure, she had been unsure and skeptical at first but she soon consented to his wishes. Rachel willingly posed for him in their private sessions. Later she didn't even protest against the drugs. For the sake of creating wonderful art and following his artistic vision there had never been any doubts in her mind. Although it had certainly helped that they had some kind of relationship at that time. Rachel had fallen in love with him which had simplified a lot of things.

Their private photo sessions possessed an intimacy and quality that he had never experienced before. At least not with such a level of intensity. It would prove difficult to recreate such an ideal setting again.

And Max was an entirely different matter altogether. Unlike Rachel she had no aspirations to pursue a model career. Her passion was solely photography and she felt more comfortable to be behind the camera than to be in front of the lens. He'd need time to put her at ease, to guide her to gain more confidence to pose for him.

Also he wasn't even sure if he wanted her in the dark room or not. Such an experience might change and corrupt her. It might taint her love for photography or even worse, destroy it. And would he dare to deprive the art world of such a gifted talent?

 _'It would be such a waste.'_ Mr. Jefferson thought, rubbing his bearded chin.

Of course in the end Mr. Jefferson was a selfish man. He placed his own interests to attain his artistic goals above anyone and anything else. Nothing would stop him if this urge to capture Max would become too strong to resist. Although the art teacher couldn't deny the fact that he somehow cared for her, he enjoyed her company and truly wanted to help her improving her photography.

He had never felt such an inner struggle in years. No model had ever made him feel that conflicted. Maybe the reason was that he saw too much of himself in his student. Max had that same spark in her eyes, carried that same enthusiasm and possessed that same natural talent to find that one perfect shot. There was an understanding between them, perhaps even a deeper connection which he hadn't quite figured out yet.

Working together with Nathan made him realize how he longed for a suitable protégé to complement one another. Sure, this boy intrigued him with his dark expressionistic style but Nathan wasn't able to see beyond the boundaries of his art.

He tried so hard to comprehend what his mentor was trying to accomplish in front of him. Yet, he couldn't see it, couldn't feel and couldn't grasp it. In a desperate attempt to impress his new father he even tried to mimic his photography and failed. It was highly questionable that Nathan could ever reach his level.

So maybe Max was the one he was searching for all his life. Someone who views art with the same eyes, with the same understanding of his vision. Someone he could confide in and finally share his passion with.

There had to be a way to satisfy his needs without poisoning Max's photography. Deep in thought his eyes looked around the room, finally resting on the wall opposite of him. He had used a passage of Michael Bublé's song lyrics _Feeling good_ as motivation in his home office. The black letters were printed in an elegant french script font on his white wall.

 _It's a new dawn. It's a new life. For me. And I'm feeling good. I'm feeling good._ Mr. Jefferson read and knew in that very moment he hadn't considered all options yet. His brown eyes shifted to his desk, becoming aware of the flyer pack which advertised the upcoming 'Everyday Heroes' contest.

A little grin appeared in the corner of his mouth as a new idea formed in his mind. _'Of course, the Everyday Heroes contest. Max can get all the recognition and success she deserves and I'll be right by her side to accompany her taking her first steps into the great art world.'_

This contest would create the perfect opportunity to capture her like he always wanted to. They both would travel to San Francisco, spend a lot of time together and their contact would become more close, more intimate which would make it so much easier to lure her. Max would feel at ease with him and she would most probably let her guard down. There would also be no problems to find an adequate photo studio as location. He could possibly ask one of his old colleagues to get what he required.

A sudden loud sound of the ringing doorbell interrupted his thoughts.

 _'Nathan.'_ Mr. Jefferson realized, checking his watch and wondering why his protégé was half an hour too early for their appointment tonight since he had always tried to drum punctuality into him.

As he opened the front door to welcome his second private student, he paused for a moment to appraise his guest. Nathan was wearing his usual red jacket over a white cardigan. His blond hair was slightly disheveled and his blue eyes were lightly glazed.

Nathan almost seemed confused, his eyes looking back and forth between his teacher and the house entrance, apparently not sure if he wanted to enter or not

 _'Is he high again?'_ Mark wondered but chose to ask him that question later.

Instead he gave his student an inviting smile and gestured him to come in. "You're sooner than I expected, Nate. That's a pleasant surprise."

But Nathan didn't reply and just nodded at that. He probably wasn't in the mood for talking.

"Here, let me take your jacket." Mark offered and held out his hand. Yet Nathan just stood there at the entrance as if he was frozen in place, giving him a strange look.

 _'I see, it's one of those days again.'_ Mr. Jefferson thought, knowing that he had to choose his words wisely. He didn't want to deal with this boy's teen rage right now. Not tonight where he had made so much progress editing his pictures. It would only ruin his good mood.

To his surprise Nathan finally moved his arms to take off his jacket. And Mr. Jefferson frowned when he saw Nathan's face twist in pain as he struggled to do so.

 _'Either he was involved in a brawl or Sean must have beat him again.'_ Mark guessed, thinking that the latter was more probable.

Mr. Jefferson felt his anger at Sean Prescott rise for a moment and he breathed out slowly to calm down again.

He still wanted to offer his help but anger flashed across Nathan's face and the boy snarled " _Don't_ _touch_ me!"

Mark took a slow deliberate step back, holding up his hands and trying to talk to him in a soothing voice. "It's okay, Nate. See? I leave you alone."

Seconds went by and Nathan just stared at him without speaking. Then he lowered his head and Mark could hear him sob quietly. "I-I'm sorry, Mark. I-I don't know what I'm doing. It's been one shitty day."

And before Mark could say anything Nathan added in an irritated tone. "And no, I _don't_ wanna talk about it!"

"It's alright. We don't have to. I only want you to know I'm always here for you if you need me." Mr. Jefferson reminded him and Nathan just nodded at that and walked inside his home, hopping on his black leather designer couch.

Mark chose to change the topic to brighten the mood. "You just make yourself comfortable and wait here and I get us our pizza."

"Holy shit, you've prepared pizza?" Nathan asked.

Mark smiled. "I know how much you love that dish. And I've tried an original sicilian recipe from Catania, it's pizza Siciliana."

Nathan grinned in return, sitting back and slowly relaxing on the couch. "That sounds delicious."

He gave Nathan a bottle of Arcadia Bay's best beer while he poured himself a glass of whiskey and they both toasted. When he brought the pizza plates, an appetizing smell filled the living room and he could clearly see the excitement on Nathan's face.

The boy ate a slice and gave him an approving nod. "That's the best pizza, I've ever had. I swear."

"Glad you like it." Mark said, watching his protégé eat and taking a swig of his whiskey, savoring the taste of the strong liquid on his tongue.

"So, what's up? Are we finally back in action?" Nathan wanted to know, licking the tomato sauce off his fingertips.

 _'Ah, he's getting straight to the point.'_ Mark was surprised since he presumed Nathan would beat around the bush to avoid this delicate topic.

Mr. Jefferson sat down on the couch next to him and his expression became stern as he asked in return. "Do you think you're up to it?"

Nathan clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white and he forced himself to smile but Mr. Jefferson was able to sense his nervousness.

"Of course I am!" He insisted.

"I don't want another Rachel Amber incident." Mark Jefferson warned him, his voice turning cold as ice.

"That-that was an accident. I-I didn't want to kill her." Nathan stammered, glaring down at the floor and nervously rubbing his forehead with his hands.

"I know, Nate. But we don't want this to happen again, do we?" Mark asked him.

Nathan lifted his head, bitterness in his voice. "You're _still mad_ at me."

 _'Yes, you're right. I'm still mad at you.'_ His teacher thought. He still regretted the loss of Rachel and this incident had been the first time he doubted his decision to have Nathan Prescott as his partner. This kid was too unstable, too unpredictable. Like a ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any moment. This could most possibly jeopardize his plans and he didn't need that. An artist can't compromise his vision with amateurs.

Mark touched the boy's forearm, squeezing it gently. "I'm not mad and I'm not blaming you for anything, Nate. I even accepted your apology letter, remember? I just want us to be more careful now. No more slip-ups. I don't want to lose everything we've built up and achieved so far. Do _you_ understand?"

He hissed. "Jeez, I get it, okay?"

"I hope so." Mark said, letting go of his arm and his gaze wandering to Nathan's waist.

Mark eyed him, questioning. "What about the gun I gave you? Did you go practice at the shooting range?"

"Hell no, the shooting range is for boring old geezers." Nathan snorted and went on. "I practiced at the junkyard and shot some bottles there."

Mark yelled, anger seeping into his voice now. "Are you really _that stupid_ , Nathan? Don't you _listen_ to anything I say?"

And the boy yelled back at him. "What the fuck, Mark! Who fucking cares where I shoot? Come on, I just wanted to have some fun, you know? You're overreacting!"

"I'm _not_ overreacting." Mark said, restraining himself and calmness returning to his voice again. "I just want you to train properly. And shooting bottles is no appropriate training for you."

"What the fuck ever." Nathan sighed and rubbed his blond hair in frustration as if he couldn't deny that Mark was somehow right about this.

"Fine, I'll go to the fucking idiot's range. Are you happy now?"

"Much better, Nate. I just don't want you to hurt anyone or _yourself_. You're _my partner_ and you're the _only one_ I have. I _trust_ you." Mark explained in a soothing tone and lifted his hand to brush a strand of blond hair out of the boy's face.

There was a slight blush on Nathan's cheeks and Mark thought it looked beautiful. _'Look at that face.'_

If he'd have a camera in his hands right now, he would've taken a picture. Unfortunately he'd have to store this beautiful image in his memory.

Nathan seemed flustered and looked away quickly, murmuring."So, um, did you already decide who's gonna be next?"

Mark opened a drawer of his couch table and gave him two student files, the file of Kate Marsh on top catching Nathan's eye.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! _That_ frigid church girl?" Nathan scoffed, obviously not understanding why Mark wanted someone like her in their dark room.

"Kate is an angel, she's the perfect embodiment of light, innocence and purity." Mark explained while his eyes roamed over Kate's profile photo in her file, admiring her beauty.

"She's just a stupid christian bitch who wants to bang Jesus. And she's not even pretty. We should get someone else." Nathan stated in a dismissive tone.

"Your eyes lack vision, Nate. And..." He raised an eyebrow, "don't tell me you're jealous of Kate Marsh."

"I'm _not_ jealous of that bitch!" Nathan snapped.

Mark smirked. "Be that as it may, I _want_ her. Do you think you can _handle_ it?"

His brown eyes were analyzing the young man, trying to detect any sign of weakness. But Nathan seemed to stay calm under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Sure." Nathan assured him plainly.

"When is your next little Vortex Club party?" Mark inquired.

"It's on October 4th." Nathan replied and added quickly. "Don't tell me you want me to invite her. She'd never accept."

"No, it's better if you keep a low profile. Let someone else do it." Mark Jefferson advised, thinking of a possible candidate to convince Kate to attend the party. A small smile appeared on his lips as he remembered the cheerleader girl who often talked to Kate during lunch break.

"Ask that cheerleader Dana Ward to invite her." Mark suggested and Nathan nodded at that.

The boy noticed the second folder beneath Kate's file now and gave it a closer look, his blue eyes suddenly widening in shock. "What the fuck! Is this a sick joke? Why is Vic's file here?"

Mark had already expected his sudden outburst and answered in a cool, mechanical tone. "Should you fail at getting Kate, I'll take Victoria Chase as substitute model."

It was never his plan to capture Victoria as his subject. She was too harsh for his gentle lens. However that Rachel incident had taught him that he needed to put more pressure on his so-called son to get the results he wanted. And Miss Chase was the perfect leverage to bring Nathan back in line.

"Leave Vic out of this! She's not one of your fucking subjects!" Nathan hissed through gritted teeth.

"I'll leave Victoria alone if you don't screw up our plan. We had to wait over half a year to continue our work because _you_ fucked everything up. And no, I don't want to clean up your mess again. Do you _understand_?" Mark asked, pronouncing his question slowly and his dark eyes glaring at him.

Nathan realized that this was just another one of his teacher's threats. And the boy knew he was helpless, he couldn't do anything against it. His blue eyes were frantically looking around the room, searching for a way out. Then he noticed the analog picture of Max Caulfield which Mr. Jefferson had left on the table.

"What about _her_? Is she another one of your silly groupies? Why don't you take _her_ instead of Vic?" Nathan wanted to know, taking the picture in his hands and holding it up directly in front of Jefferson's face.

Mark stared into his eyes. " _She_ doesn't have to concern you, Nathan. Leave her out of this."

"Why? What's so special about that bitch?" He asked.

"She's my own personal project and you will not lay a single finger on her." Mark said matter-of-factly, making it clear that Nathan didn't have a say in the matter.

Nathan stared angrily at him and announced. "How about this? I won't touch your groupie if you promise me you won't frame Vic."

"That's entirely up to you, Nate. Don't fuck up and everyone gets what he wants. Are we cool?" Mark asked, a hint of a threat still resonating in his deep voice.

"Yeah, we're cool." Nathan sighed in a defeated tone, knowing that his teacher always had the upper hand when they had their usual arguments.

His student ran his hand through his blond hair, murmuring. "I still think you're making too much of a fuss about that stuff, Mark. I've assisted you a lot of times and I only fucked up once. You're overacting here."

"I just want us to be careful. That's all. David Madsen is playing private investigator at Blackwell and right now he's suspecting everyone. That annoying security guard can turn into a real problem if we make another mistake." Mark predicted.

"Calm the fuck down. Madsen is an asshole and he doesn't even have a fucking clue what's going on here." Nathan spat.

"He's closer to the truth than anyone else. But maybe..." Mark was thoughtful now, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"But maybe what?"

Mark's eyes glinted behind his glasses as he continued. "Maybe our dear Chief of Security will have a tragic accident. Maybe he falls into Blackwell's pool and someone discovers his drowned body."

Nathan grinned. "Oh, you're evil."

Mark's lips formed a smirk, looking at him with his hooded eyes. "I prefer the term _creative_."

"Anyway, " He began. "I don't think we need to go that far since we don't want to cause another unnecessary commotion here. If Madsen gets in our way it should be sufficient to ask your father to kick his ass out of Blackwell."

"My dad owns this school. He'll do it." Nathan assured him.

"Very good." Mark said, seemingly pleased and he chose to give Nathan an approving nod while his hand moved up to tousle his blond hair.

Mr. Jefferson moved closer to him on the couch. "I'm looking forward to us working together again, Nate. And I know you won't disappoint me."

"There won't be another Rachel Amber, I promise." Nathan told him and his breathing became quicker as Mark took his hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"I know, son. I believe in you." Mark said in a soft voice, feeling like a proud father trusting in his only son.

* * *

It was time for another photography lecture and Max felt happy to be here as she started to unpack her stuff. She was sure Mr. Jefferson's class would be as interesting and engaging as always and she hoped that she could talk to him afterwards to thank him personally for sending her photo.

She had received his e-mail Saturday evening and she'd been giddy like a silly little girl when she opened his message. He didn't write much but she was still glad to read his praising words.

 _Max,_

 _thanks again for being my model. You were a true inspiration and I'd be honored if you'd be willing to be my model again. I've attached your photo and I hope you like my slight modifications._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Mark Jefferson_

His attached photo of her had left her speechless. Mr. Jefferson had enhanced the lighting and the shadows, adding more depth to her already perfect image. She couldn't believe how beautiful she was there, it was so unreal. And Max wished she could use this picture as her new profile photo on FB but it was too risky. They all knew Jefferson's chiaroscuro style and would immediately recognize his signature.

 _'Victoria would surely kill me.'_ Max thought and chose to use her photo as background image on her cellphone instead, always stealing a glance when she had time to spare.

As the school bell rang and Mr. Jefferson entered the class, he immediately scanned the whole room, his dark eyes moving around and finally resting on Max. He gave her a wink and Max smiled shyly in return, thinking she was behaving like an idiot again.

 _'Wake up, Max. You're swooning over your teacher who is much older than you. It's not cool.'_ She reprimanded herself, not wanting to turn into another Victoria who was all over him the whole time. That would surely annoy him.

"Today we'll be talking about the image editing process. It encompasses the processes of altering images, whether they are digital photographs, traditional photo-chemical photographs or illustrations." Mr. Jefferson began and walked to his usual spot in the middle of the class.

He went on. "As you all know image editing software is an essential tool for any photographer and nowadays we can't work without it. We use RAW format files to have full control over our adjustments without losing any picture quality."

Mr. Jefferson looked around the room. "Now, who can give me a typical example where image editing is used?"

Max didn't need to look to her left side to see Victoria raising her hand eagerly.

"Yes, Victoria?" The photography teacher asked.

"Beauty retouching." Victoria answered, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner and showing her teacher her sweetest smile. Max couldn't help but roll her eyes at her obvious advances.

"Very good, Victoria." Mr. Jefferson praised her and explained. "We use this technique for photos but it's also used in movies. For example the special effect studio Industrial Light and Magic use beauty retouching to make an actor or actress appear younger by removing his or her wrinkles and tear sacs. It's an extensive procedure where you have to edit every single picture frame by frame."

Max noticed Mr. Jefferson turning his gaze towards her again, speaking. "This begs the question just how much image manipulation is allowed? How much can we alter an image without ruining it or its meaning?"

Max swallowed, already fearing that he'd pick her now as he eyed her. "I believe Max has a special opinion about image editing since she uses an analog camera where her shots are completely pristine and inartificial."

His dark eyes focused on hers and she felt that familiar tingling pressure. His gaze again so intense that she couldn't avert her eyes. "Max, can you please tell us about the appeal of shooting with your analog camera?"

All eyes were on her again and Max believed Mr. Jefferson was doing this on purpose. Victoria and Taylor were already giggling in the corner of the room, most likely making fun of her and Max wished that she could just jump into a hole beneath her feet to hide there forever.

 _'Great, why is this always happening to me? It's as if Mr. Jefferson is challenging me to be more active in class.'_ Max thought.

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore Victoria's glaring eyes and Mr. Jefferson's expectant stare. "I believe that instant photography is just as viable an art form as any other. It's appeal is the instantaneous self-developing film whereas a digital photo workflow is dependent on editing and printing the files."

Max looked up and noticed Mr. Jefferson's approving nod and she continued. "And I love my old analog camera because nothing gets you in the moment than a polaroid. Polaroids are truthful and natural and they are completely untainted from image manipulation."

Max could hear Victoria sneer, whispering to Taylor in a low voice. "The selfie hipster can fuck her polaroids."

 _'Yes, I hate you too, Victoria.'_ Max thought and felt a strong urge to kick her off her high horse.

Mr. Jefferson didn't seem to notice Victoria's whispering, he came closer to Max's desk and gave her an encouraging smile. "Good Max. I can only agree with your statement that instant photography is a viable art form as any other and I hope you never abandon your style. Because I believe it reflects the values of traditional photography of our past and connects it with our present. And most notably your style possesses its own natural _beauty_."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Jefferson." Max stammered in a quiet voice, an imminent blush creeping over her face.

Her art teacher turned around and spent the rest of the lesson further explaining all kinds of image editing techniques and suggesting that every one of his students should edit one of his or her own photos as next class assignment.

As the bell rang most students rushed to get out and Max looked annoyed when she watched Victoria strutting over to Mr. Jefferson's desk to ask him for advice again.

 _'Victoria doesn't waste a single second kissing ass. I kinda feel sorry for Mr. Jefferson. He has to deal with that almost every day.'_ Max thought and her gaze wandered to her classmate Kate Marsh who was also still sitting at her table, going over her own notes.

 _'It'll probably take a while till Victoria is finished there.'_ She sighed and collected her things, walking over to Kate.

"Hey, Kate." Max greeted her with a polite smile.

"Hi. Maxine was it?" Kate asked, her voice so quiet that Max had to strain her ears.

"Only Max, _never_ Maxine." Max corrected her and asked. "So, you're also waiting for Mr. Jefferson?"

"Yes, I'm his class assistant and I always help him after the lecture is over." She replied calmly.

"Kinda sucks that we have to wait for Victoria to go away." Max murmured, unable to hide her irritation in her voice. It occurred to her that Victoria being all over Jefferson bothered her more than she thought it would.

 _'Am I actually jealous of Victoria?'_ She asked herself, not really understanding why she felt that way. Or was it perhaps that her feelings have changed? Did she have stronger feelings for her photography teacher than she cared to admit? The thought alone made her heart flutter.

Kate didn't seem to pay Victoria no mind as she whispered. "I don't mind. And I think I can somehow understand her."

Max frowned, asking. "Understand her?"

Kate paused for a moment and looked at Victoria, explaining. "Her parents own the Chase Space. I can imagine she's under a lot of pressure and maybe that's the reason why she tries so hard to be the best in our class. No wonder she asks Mr. Jefferson for help to improve herself."

"But still, that doesn't give her the right to be so mean and treat us as lowlifes. She probably thinks she's better than us just because she's another rich Vortex Club member. In fact, shouldn't she be happy with everything she has? I know I'd be super excited if my parents would own a famous gallery." Max told her.

Kate gave her a weak smile. "Even if she's treating others like that I would like to believe she has a good heart."

"I think _you're the one_ with a good heart here, Kate." Max said.

Kate's expression turned thoughtful. "Well, I always try to see the good in people. That's all. And I think you're a good person too, Max."

"Thank you, Kate."

"Maybe we could meet sometime and drink a cup of tea together." Kate suggested.

Max agreed. "Yeah, sure, I'd love to."

Both their heads went up now as they heard Mr. Jefferson dismissing Victoria. "That would be all, Miss Chase. I hope these considerations aid you to find better image ideas."

"Thank you so much for reviewing my photos, Mr. Jefferson. It really means a lot to me." Victoria said in a sweet tone and gave the other two girls an angry look as if they were troublesome intruders here, somehow disturbing her private moments with Mr. Jefferson.

 _'She really is all over Jefferson.'_ Max thought, suppressing a sigh.

Mr. Jefferson beckoned Max to come over, turning his back on Victoria who stomped out of the room, turning around at the door and giving Max one last nasty glance.

"Thank you for waiting, Max. How can I help you?" Her teacher asked her, his brown eyes catching hers as he sat back casually at the edge of his desk, looking as handsome as always.

Max gulped. "I thought we could talk about that photo you sent me."

"Sure." He caught the hint that she wanted to talk in private and addressed Kate.

"Kate, would you be so kind and go to my office and get these text books for me?" He asked her and handed her his keys and a book list.

"There's a trolley cart in front of my office. You can use it to carry the books. I fear they're quite heavy."

Kate nodded and smiled at him. "Of course, Mr. Jefferson."

The teacher gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Kate. I don't know what I'd do without your assistance."

Mr. Jefferson escorted Kate to the door like a gentleman and closed it behind him, his brown eyes landing on Max again as he walked back to his desk.

Max felt her nervousness rise instantly at the thought of being alone with him in this classroom. It was always exciting to have his attention solely on her. She felt that Mr. Jefferson was the only one here at Blackwell who truly understood her and her passion for photography.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay calm in front of her idol. "I wanted to thank you again for sending me your photo, Mr. Jefferson. Your adjustments brought more depth to the picture, I liked it a lot."

"There's no need to thank me. I rather have to thank you for being my model." Mr. Jefferson said, his hand resting on his hip.

The warmth returned to her cheeks as she was once again unable to hide from his penetrating eyes. Eyes so pervasive that they seemed to look right into her inner self.

She gulped and reached down into her bag, taking out a photo and showing it to him. "I took this shot a while ago and thought it might be more effective in black and white. So I've scanned it and edited the image on my laptop."

He took the photo, his fingers barely brushing hers and his attentive eyes examining her picture. Max felt the uneasiness inside her, it was always a nerve wracking experience to show her photos to him.

 _'Chillax, Max.'_ She told herself in her thoughts, feeling the growing tension in her body.

After minutes that felt like an eternity to her Mr. Jefferson finally looked up from her photo and complimented her. "This is... an interesting shot. An abandoned run-down country house always has this sinister air of mystery around it, doesn't it? As if this old building can tell a thousand tales which we'll never hear. And I appreciate how you used the high tonal contrast in this image to achieve the best black and white outcome. Nice work, Max. This is powerful photography here, the shadows appear darker and the wooden texture gains more depth."

Max beamed. "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. I was already worried that this shot wouldn't work in black and white."

This was her first attempt in black and white photography and she couldn't believe that her shot was actually this good. At least according to her teacher's opinion. And she knew Mr. Jefferson was always honest with her, always telling her how he truly saw and appraised her photos.

"You're too modest, Max. Have more faith in your photography and believe in your skills. I'm sure you can become a great artist. And I wasn't lying when I told you _you have a gift_. Don't let your doubts and worries cloud your mind. The only one who can stop you from achieving greatness is yourself. Remember that." He told her in an encouraging voice, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'll try to remember that. Although I think you're giving me too much credit." Max said nervously, still being stunned to receive so much praise from her favorite teacher.

"I only give credit where credit is due." Mr. Jefferson made clear and went on. "And as you favor your polaroid camera, I assume the name Edwin Land rings a bell?"

Max nodded. "Of course, he's the inventor of polaroid photography."

"Very good, Max. Mr. Land once said that _an essential aspect of creativity is not being afraid to fail_. The next time you feel unsure about your own photography I want you to remember his words. Great art is always born of challenges. And even mistakes and dissatisfaction can help you to point you in the direction you want to go with your art."

"How is it that you always find the right words to give me courage?" She breathed taken aback.

 _'And to give me this strength to believe in myself.'_ She added in her thoughts, again feeling that Mr. Jefferson understood her like no one else.

"I'm your teacher, Max. That's part of my job. Which reminds me..." Mr. Jefferson began, looking thoughtful again as if a new idea has crossed his mind.

He walked over to the glass cabinet and removed a monochrome camera. "Since you're venturing into the wondrous territory of black and white photography now, you will discover a new world waiting to be captured. That's why I want you to borrow _this_."

Max stared at the camera in his hands with wide eyes, slowly shaking her head, muttering. "No way, Mr. Jefferson, I-I can't accept this. It's school property and I-I'm so clumsy I'll probably only break it."

To her surprise her teacher started to chuckle, seemingly amused by her reaction. "Don't worry, Max. This is actually one of my cameras and I doubt you'll throw it around or use it for underwater shots." He jested.

Max tried to smile and held the camera in her shaky and sweaty hands. _'Be careful, Super Max. This thing probably cost a fortune.'_ She thought and carefully placed the camera inside her bag, making a hundred percent sure it was safe there.

 _'I wonder if his other private student also received a monochrome camera. Maybe he's an expert and a lot more skilled with this than me.'_ The young student thought.

Doubts were nagging at her mind again, a fear that Mr. Jefferson would draw comparisons between his two private students. And if that was the case she would surely lose against this other student, or worse, Mr. Jefferson might even stop giving her these private tutoring lessons.

"Something on your mind, Max?" He asked her, pulling her from her reverie.

Max flushed, mumbling. "I was just wondering about your other private student."

Mr. Jefferson frowned, his voice sounding deeper as he asked. "My _other_ student? Why?"

"Is he an experienced black and white photographer?" Max wanted to know.

"Well, black and white photography is his style and he's been doing it for a long time. But why are you asking? Are you worried that he might be more experienced than you?"

"It's just that... you're helping me so much with these lessons." She tried to explain, thinking. _'And you're making me feel I'm somewhat special.'_ "I don't want to disappoint..."

"Max," Mr. Jefferson cut in, "this is no competition. And you should know by now I don't play favorites."

"I know you're not like that." Max said.

"Then you really shouldn't worry. Honestly, you've made so much progress in such a short amount of time, already adapting to a new style with this strong desire to learn more. And...", he leaned slightly forward now, whispering into her ear as though he were sharing a secret."I really enjoy our time together, Max."

Max just stood there, blinking. Her mind trying to process everything he had told her while her senses were invaded by the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Mr. Jefferson," Max breathed, looking up at him, "I enjoy our lessons too. And I'm grateful for your help, I really am." She told him, wanting him to know how much it all meant to her.

"Shhh, quiet, Max." He hushed her in a soothing voice as his brown eyes observed her, eyes like a camera eye tracing every single feature of her face. His hand went up and pressed her shoulder softly.

Mr. Jefferson suggested. "If it's okay with you, I'd like us to meet at my house for our next lesson. I'll show you how you can set up your own studio environment. It might come in handy if you practice with your new camera at your dorm room."

"Wowsers, that sounds awesome, Mr. Jefferson. But is it really okay to meet at your place? I don't want to cause you any trouble." She said in a concerned tone.

"There won't be any trouble, Max. Only if we get caught. But I presume you can keep it a secret, right?" He winked at her.

"I won't tell anyone. I promise." Max assured him.

"I believe you and I know I can rely on you. Thank you, Max." Mr. Jefferson nodded and glanced at his watch now.

"Kate seems a bit late. Could you please do me a favor and go look for her?" He asked her.

"Sure, Mr. Jefferson." Max replied, hurrying to leave the classroom to search for Kate.

To her surprise it didn't take long to find her as she heard a loud angry male voice not very far away from where she was standing.

Max realized that this voice belonged to Nathan Prescott who seemed to harass Kate. Her trolley cart had been pushed over and the text books were all scattered around the school's floor.

 _'Fuck, it's Nathan Prescott... That asshole is like Victoria's male clone, with way more money and attitude, if that's possible.'_ She thought, her eyes moving between him and Kate.

"You should _watch_ where you're going, bitch!" Nathan growled at Kate who was trying to get away from him.

 _'I have to help her.'_ Max quickly moved in front of Kate, shielding her with her own body. "Stay away from her, Prescott! Or..."

Nathan glared at her. " _Or what_? Who are you anyway? Another one of Jefferson's dumb groupies?"

"I'm his student, not his groupie." Max corrected him with a sharp tone, quickly looking behind her and feeling relief that Kate was seemingly unharmed.

" _What the fuck ever_!" He snarled and came closer. "This is _none_ of your fucking business. Go away, groupie!"

"I won't! And you're the one who should go away, Prescott!" She told him, hoping that he would just leave them alone or that one of the school's security guards would step in to help them.

" _Nobody_ tells me what to do, bitch! Nobody! Not my father, not my therapist, not the principal and not _you_! You don't even have a _fucking clue_ who I am! _My_ father _owns_ this school!" He yelled with a furious voice.

 _'This guy has some serious anger issues. Is he doped or something?'_ Max wondered, searching for a way out of this mess.

"Prescott, calm down, okay?" She said, holding up her hands in defense, feeling her fear rise.

" _Shut the fuck up_!" Nathan didn't back down and drew closer.

"Seriously, what's your damn problem? Kate didn't do anything." She tried to talk sense into him.

"That bitch _hit me_ with her fucking trolley!" He growled and grabbed Max at her shoulders, slamming her against the nearest wall. The impact was so strong that she felt a sharp pain shooting up her spine, bringing tears to her eyes.

She attempted to push him away but it was futile. His hands held her hoodie in a tight grip. All she could do was glare at him, feeling totally helpless now.

 _'Great, just when I thought that nobody is worse than Victoria, this asshole proves me wrong.'_ Max thought, hoping he would just go away.

"Get away from her, dude!" She heard Warren's voice shout behind Nathan, his hands gripping Nathan's red jacket and shoving him away from her.

Nathan's features contorted with rage as he pushed Warren's hands away, snarling " _Don't_ _touch_ me, nerd!".

"Thank god, you're here." Max sighed, glad to see her friend here.

Warren gave her a assuring nod, clenching his fists as he faced Nathan Prescott. "It's okay. I got this, Max."

To Max's relief it didn't turn into a fight as she heard Mr. Jefferson's loud voice shout from the other end of the hall. " _Nathan_!"

Nathan's blue eyes flickered back and forth between all of them in confusion, probably feeling surrounded like a trapped animal. He just stood there for a moment as his eyes finally settled on Mr. Jefferson now.

And Max was surprised to detect fear on Nathan's face. As if he was afraid of their teacher. Her gaze moved to Mr. Jefferson, seeing his whole body tense and his facial expression so cold and angry, it was intimidating. She had never seen her photography teacher like this before.

"Fuck it!" Nathan cursed under his breath and left without looking back, his hand rubbing his head as if he was having strong headaches.

 _'What an asshole. He could've at least apologized to Kate.'_ Max thought, trying to stand up but the pain in her back was killing her.

"Kate, Max, are you alright?" Mr. Jefferson asked, his concern clearly audible in his voice.

Kate nodded. "I'm okay,", she motioned to Max, "but Max..."

Max gave them a weak smile, explaining. "I kinda tried to play hero but it didn't work out so well."

Mr. Jefferson approached her, his brown eyes looking down at her. "We better get you to the nurse office."

"Mr. Graham, would you please go there and check if Mrs. Barenchi is still there? It's late and I don't know if she already called it a day." Mr. Jefferson asked him.

"Yeah, on my way." Warren replied, rushing away.

"And Kate." Mr. Jefferson faced her now, giving her a sympathetic smile. "I want you to go now and get some rest."

"But the books..." Kate whispered, pointing to the chaos on the floor.

He waved her worries aside. "Don't worry, I'll handle everything. You just promise me to take care of yourself. Cool?"

Kate nodded. "Okay, Mr. Jefferson. But please call me if you need any help." and she then turned to Max, giving her a thankful smile. "And Max, thanks for helping me. I hope you get well soon."

"Thanks, Kate." Max said, her attention shifting back to Mr. Jefferson who knelt in front of her.

"Come on," He gripped Max under her arms, "let me help you." Max winced in pain when he pulled her up to her feet.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes as he observed her, asking with a concerned voice. "You're hurt. Where?"

"My back." Max replied through gritted teeth, grimacing as she felt that pulsating stabbing ache crawling up her back.

"Let me see..." She didn't have any strength to protest as he sneaked his right hand under her shirt, carefully feeling her back.

A gasp escaped her mouth as she felt his warm hand touching her naked skin gently, the sheer sensation sending goosebumps all over her body. Mr. Jefferson tilted his head, his dark intense eyes watching her reaction.

"I'm sorry, Max. I didn't want to hurt you." Mr. Jefferson apologized, a worried expression on his face now.

"It's okay. I was just startled, that's all." Max said with a flustered voice, feeling her face on fire at his touch.

"I think there are no fractures, only bruises." Mr. Jefferson concluded in a soft tone, removing his hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders to steady her.

"What about Nathan?" Max wanted to know.

"Don't worry about him. I'll talk to Principal Wells and we'll handle it from here on out. Okay?" Mr. Jefferson assured her.

Max nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mr. Jefferson."


	5. Chapter 4: Unguarded Moment

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 ** _A/N: A big thank you to Velial13 for reviewing. It really means a lot and is very much appreciated._**

 **Chapter 4: Unguarded moment**

It was Tuesday afternoon and school was over at last. All students were in a hurry to get out of the old building as fast as they could. Max sighed, wishing she could join them and leave too. After the incident with Nathan Prescott the principal had summoned all who were involved to question them one after another. And it was just her luck that she was the last one to be called in, still waiting alone in front of Principal Wells' office.

Sighing again she took out her cellphone, checking if she had received any new text messages. A new message from an unknown number caught her attention, blinking in a yellow color.

 _'Who's this?'_ She asked herself in her thoughts, furrowing her brows as she selected and opened the text.

 _-Unknown number: Keep your damn mouth shut or you'll regret it.-_

 _'Shit, an anonymous threat. It can only be Nathan.'_ Max thought and wasn't sure what to do about it.

She wouldn't lie to the principal, that much was certain. But she didn't want Nathan Prescott as her enemy either. He was the leader of the Vortex Club and acted like the king of the bullies here. Blackwell Academy would surely turn into Black Hell then. And unnecessary Blackwell drama was the last thing she needed or wanted in her life. Max just wanted to be left alone and concentrate on her studies. Her GPA fluctuated and her parents were bugging her to improve her grades.

' _Guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. I doubt Wells will suspend Nathan, his father owns this school._ '

The creaking sound of an opening door interrupted her thoughts and Max noticed her photography teacher entering the secretary's office.

"Hey, Max." Mr. Jefferson greeted her with a smile, waving a hand at her.

"Hi, Mr. Jefferson. What are you doing here?" She asked him, wondering if Principal Wells had called him too.

"I thought you might need my support when you're entering the lion's den." He told her in a low, conspirative tone, making sure that Raymond Wells' secretary wouldn't hear him.

Max smiled at him, feeling relief that she didn't have to face the principal alone today. "Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. That's really nice of you. I hope I'm not keeping you from your work."

"It's quite alright, Max. I'm finished for today, so no worries there." Her teacher reassured her, his expression turning serious.

He studied her face, giving her a considerate look. "How's your back? Are you feeling better?"

Max nodded. "Yes, much better. Thanks again for the painkillers, Mr. Jefferson."

"No problem. I'm glad you're okay." He seemed relieved and took off his glasses, cleaning them with a small tissue.

For a moment she couldn't stop herself from staring at his face. She had never seen him without his glasses before and her eyes were glued to his, admiring the hazel color of his eyes.

 _'Oh my gosh, he actually looks more attractive without his glasses. How is that even possible?_ ' She wondered.

"Hmm, is there something on my face?" He asked her as he caught her staring at him, a chuckle escaping between his upturned lips.

"Um, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." She murmured shyly, averting her eyes and feeling the heat rise to her cheeks at his question.

"It's okay, Max. I must confess I like it if you look at me _like_ _that_." Mr. Jefferson gave her a playful wink and Max felt even hotter now.

 _'Mr. Jefferson really has fun teasing me like that. If this goes on like that my face will be as red as a tomato.'_ She thought, feeling embarrassment wash over her and stealing a tentative glance at the female secretary who was still busy filing invoices.

Max tried to distract herself and glanced at her cellphone checking the time. Kate had been in Wells' office for over fifteen minutes now. What was taking them so long? She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Patience had never been her strong suit and waiting here made her feel uneasy and twitchy. And having Mr. Jefferson standing so close right beside her only doubled her nervousness.

"You should know, there's another reason why I'm here today." Mr. Jefferson suddenly said, his voice taking on a deep and grave tone, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She gazed at him with questioning eyes and he rubbed the back of his neck, beginning to explain. "Principal Wells and I had a little argument yesterday concerning you."

" _Concerning me_?" She echoed, tugging at her small bag nervously and wondering what this was all about.

Mr. Jefferson frowned with discontent. "He believes that Kate attacked Nathan with her trolley cart and that you were pretending to be injured by Mr. Prescott."

"Wait, _what_?!" Max asked in disbelief, her brain processing what she had just heard. How could the principal think something like that? Or even accuse her of faking her pain in her back?

She could see the anger in Mr. Jefferson's face now and although it wasn't directed at her, she still shuddered. "I can imagine how frustrating this must be for you. I couldn't believe it either. My assumption is that Nathan's father is involved here. Principal Wells is totally under Sean Prescott's thumb, so I guess we shouldn't be surprised."

"But-but if Principal Wells thinks like that, then we're all liars in his eyes. Warren, me and even Kate." Max concluded, already fearing that this might get her into more trouble. Raymond Wells held all the power over her scholarship and that thought truly scared her.

"Well, Nathan's statement clearly contradicts our statements. I think we should keep cool and see how this will all turn out." He said with his usual soothing voice.

"That's easier said than done but I'll try to keep cool." She replied, her fingers fiddling nervously with the strap of her bag.

"It'll be okay, Max. I'm here for you." He assured her, showing a calm and confident demeanor.

Max nodded at him silently and almost jumped when the door to the principal's office suddenly opened in a swift motion. She had to step back quickly not to get hit by it.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Marsh." She heard a deep male voice say, her eyes following her classmate Kate leaving the office. Kate seemed down, her eyes were gazing downward and she was walking very fast as if she wanted to leave this room as quickly as possible.

Max wished she could've asked her about her conversation with Wells but from the looks of it she could already guess what had occurred in there.

The principal paused at the door entrance and eyed her with a strict expression. "Miss Caulfield, thank you for waiting. Would you please come in?"

"Mr. Jefferson is also here to participate. Is that okay?" Max asked him, motioning to her photography teacher who took a step forward.

Principal Wells nodded. "If it makes you feel better, then he's welcome to join our conversation."

 _'Conversation? You probably mean interrogation.'_ Max thought and grimaced slightly as she entered the office, Mr. Jefferson following close behind her like a moving shadow in his black suit jacket.

They both took seats in front of his desk while Principal Wells chose to stand behind his large desk, towering over them with his tall, imposing figure casting long shadows over the faces of his attendees.

"Well, now that we're all here, I want us to discuss the incident which took place yesterday afternoon." He started and his black eyes were on Max now, observing her with a searching gaze. "Ms. Caulfield, would you please tell me why you were still at school at this late hour?"

Wells had this stern expression on his face again which made Max feel very anxious. She always had the impression that the principal didn't like her for reasons unknown to her.

 _'I don't belong to the rich kids who have that large dollar sign floating above their heads. That must be the problem.'_ She thought.

Max swallowed. "I was waiting in Mr. Jefferson's class because I wanted to ask him for advice regarding my photography."

Mr. Jefferson nodded. "Yes, Max and I were indeed discussing her work. I can confirm that."

"I think these discussions should take place _during_ your lectures and _not_ _after_ school hours." Wells clarified in a displeased tone.

"Ray, I want to help my students as much as I can. And I don't have enough time to lecture and review their work at the same time. You know that." Mr. Jefferson made clear.

Principal Wells sighed heavily. "I know, Mark. But I'd like our students to leave the school building when school is over so that scenes such as this one don't happen in the first place."

Mr. Jefferson's voice rose as he pointed out. "This incident was caused by Mr. Nathan Prescott. Max and Kate had nothing to do with it. They are the victims here, not Nathan."

"Well, unfortunately Mr. Prescott told me another version of this event and we have conflicting statements here." Principal Wells explained, turning his attention to Max again.

"Ms. Caulfield, did you witness how Ms. Marsh hit Mr. Prescott with her trolley cart or did you see any action that implies Mr. Prescott hurt Ms. Marsh?"

"I didn't see how the trolley hit Nathan. And I also didn't see that he was attacking her. But from my perspective it was clear to me that Kate was afraid of Nathan and I wanted to help her." Max recounted.

"You told Mr. Jefferson that Mr. Prescott pushed you against a wall. And Kate Marsh confirmed this statement. However, Mr. Prescott denied this accusation and claimed you're both not telling the truth." Principal Wells summed up their different statements, his facial features hardening now.

"As you all know, Mr. Prescott is a well respected student here at Blackwell. His academic record is flawless and he engages in a variety of extracurricular activities, including working with the Arcadia Bay Homeless Fund, the local Animal Shelter and the retirement home. So you see, this makes it difficult for me to believe that Mr. Prescott attacked you as you have stated. And we have no proof that you have suffered any injuries from this _alleged attack_." Max could see the doubt in the principal's eyes, it became clear to her now that he didn't believe her.

"Nurse Barenchi wasn't in her office at that time and I'm no doctor, Ray." Mr. Jefferson told him, turning to Max now in his seat, his brown eyes regarding her.

"I know Max Caulfield as an earnest, hard-working and kind student. She was truly in pain yesterday and I can assure you she _didn't fake_ her injury."

Max was glad that Mr. Jefferson was standing up for her, trying to defend her as best as he could. She felt like being in a wrong movie here. It was all so laughable and ridiculous. It was as if Nathan Prescott is so esteemed in Principal Wells' eyes that he could do no wrong. Or his reputation alone was enough in his opinion to free him from any blame.

Max was so close to giving free rein to her anger right now and she had to use all of her self-composure to remain calm. Yelling at Wells would probably do her no good. On the contrary, he might use it to lay the blame on her further.

Principal Wells rested his big hands on the back of his armchair and leaned slightly forward, sighing in a theatrical manner as if he was unsure what to do about this whole issue. "My problem is that I have conflicting statements here and I can't blame Mr. Prescott nor Ms. Caulfield due to lack of evidence."

Mr. Jefferson glared at him, asking in an upset voice. "So you're basically telling us that this episode will have no consequences for Mr. Prescott?"

The principal raised a hand at the photography teacher, silencing him. "Mark, I understand your feelings. And I assure you I take my duties as Principal of Blackwell Academy very seriously. Regarding Mr. Prescott I have decided to issue a reprimand concerning his behavior towards Ms. Marsh and Ms. Caulfield. And that will be all. Thank you both for coming in today."

The principal dismissed them and took a seat in his extravagant armchair now, eyes on his computer screen, clearly indicating that he was done with them.

 _'A reprimand? Now that's a funny joke. I don't know if I should laugh or cry now.'_ Max thought, glancing at Principal Wells one last time, feeling the disappointment overcoming her. She had hoped this discussion would have ended in another way. Perhaps she'd been too naive thinking that Nathan Prescott would get some sort of punishment after hurting her.

They left the office without speaking a word and Max felt her worry well up inside her as she spotted the tension on her teacher's face.

She tried to calm him. "Mr. Jefferson, it was supercool what you did in there. It felt reassuring to have your support."

Mr. Jefferson's mouth turned down, clearly hinting at his displeasure. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Max."

"It's okay, really. I'm just glad it's over and I hope Nathan Prescott will just leave me alone now." Max sighed, expecting she could leave this all behind her from now on.

"Don't worry about Nathan. He's more bark than bite. Don't let him scare you." Her teacher told her and stopped her in front of the school's entrance doors, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Mr. Jefferson suggested. "I think this might be a good time for another private lesson today, Max. Photography always helps us a lot to get some distraction and to clear our heads."

"Sounds like a good idea." She agreed and received a paper note from him, reading his address written in an elegant handwriting.

He smiled at her. "4pm at my place. And I hope you like sushi."

"Sushi? I so love japanese cuisine, that's awesome, Mr. Jefferson." She said, smiling in return.

"Very good, see you at 4 then. Don't be late." With that they both walked outside and he took his leave, glancing at her friend Warren for a short moment before heading to the teacher's parking lot.

Max sat down at the entrance stairs next to her geek friend.

She nodded at him. "Hey Warren, thanks for waiting."

Warren grinned. "What up Mad Max? I see you survived Wells' interrogation session."

Max joked. "Seems I'm still alive and kicking. Surviving a zombie apocalypse is probably a bit harder."

"Yeah, zombies are nasty." Warren agreed and his expression turned serious, his concern audible in his voice. "Seriously, though, are you okay? What did Wells say?"

She sighed, replying. "He said there's no proof of my injury and Nathan only gets a reprimand which is a lame joke."

Warren shook his head, sighing. "I can't believe that bully gets away scot-free with his bullshit. It's so unfair."

"What did you expect? He's a _Prescott_." Max reminded him, annoyance in her voice.

Warren grimaced. "I know. The Prescotts own Arcadia Bay. Everyone here knows this."

He turned to her now, trying to get her mind off the Prescott family. "Anyway, let's try to forget these rich bastards. How about you and me taking a trip to Portland this Saturday?"

Max raised an eyebrow. "Portland? Is there another comic convention?"

"Nope, no comic con this time. I wanna go and check out some cars. I'm looking for new wheels." He explained, enthusiasm coloring his tone.

She shook her head. "But you're aware I'm no car nerd, right? Engines, wheel rims and all that stuff isn't my specialty."

Warren laughed. "Says the girl with her flashy red road racer. Come on, you're the Flash, Speedy Max."

She grimaced, murmuring. "I'm not Barry Allen, Warren. I'm more like the superslow Flash with muscle soreness."

"I don't care. A superslow Flash is cool too. And we can watch all the _Fast and Furious_ movies as preparation. That would be fun, right? _Right_?" He asked her with his big puppy dog eyes.

"I'd rather prefer we watch _Back to the future_. The DeLorean DMC-12 is the coolest car in film history. Anyway, why don't you ask Brooke? I bet she's a car expert. She's like a human wikipedia encyclopedia." Max suggested, feeling slightly uncomfortable that Warren was so persistent about his trip to Portland.

"Brooke is really smart and all that. But she's not as cool as you, Max." Warren made clear, moving a little closer to her on the steps.

"Thanks for the compliment. But a hipster girl like me trying to be cool isn't really cool, Warren. Maybe you should really ask Brooke for help. You don't want to buy a piece of junk with me as your car buyer's guide, right?"

Warren winked at her, trying his best Harrison Ford voice imitation. "The Millennium Falcon was the _fastest hunk of junk_ in the galaxy, remember?"

Max burst out in laughter hearing his Star Wars quote, thinking that Warren made a great mistake here, holding up her hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, I give up, Mr. Science guy. You win, I'll come with you. But I don't wanna hear any complaints later if your new car doesn't drive at all."

"I take my chances." Warren said in a funny sounding voice, rubbing his chin with his finger as if he were a savvy gambler in Vegas.

 _'Great, now I have to go to Portland with Warren.'_ Max sighed, not looking forward to their trip, she wasn't really into cars. In her mind road racers were so much cooler than that.

As Max tried to get up from the stairs someone knocked into her intentionally, the push was so strong that she had to reach for Warren's shoulder to keep her balance.

She cursed under her breath, "What the..." and her eyes widened when she recognized Nathan Prescott grinning down at her.

"You shouldn't block the steps with your nerd guy, photo groupie." Nathan sneered.

Warren already got up and stepped in front of Max, anger in his voice. "Hey, dude! Leave her alone!"

"Relax, Gayram. I just want to have a little chat with your stupid friend, that's all." Nathan said, his gaze turning back to Max now.

"What do you want, Prescott?" Max asked, folding her arms over her chest, thinking _'He just can't leave me alone, can he?'._

Nathan Prescott pointed a finger at her, his blue eyes glaring at her. "I hope your meeting with our principal made it perfectly clear to you that you _can't mess_ with a Prescott. You're a newbie here, so I guess you've learned your fucking lesson."

"I've learned that you're an annoying rich kid acting high and mighty all the time. Is that all?" Max asked him in an irritated tone, indicating that she had heard enough of his bullshit.

"Vic told me all about you. Don't think you're somewhat _special_ just because you're one of Mr. J's photo groupies. You're just a fucking pretender who tries so hard to be cool. Let me give you one last piece of advice, Caulfield. Go back to Seattle. We don't need losers like you here at Blackwell."

She countered. "As far as I can see you're the loser here, Prescott. While I've worked my ass off to get my scholarship you just needed to ask your rich dad for help. Who's the loser now?"

That must have struck a nerve, Nathan was yelling at her now. "You _know shit_ , groupie! Don't you ever get in my way again! That's my _last warning_!" He then turned and stumped away, finally leaving them alone.

Warren sighed, watching him go away. "He's such a douchebag."

Max sighed too. "Yeah, I know."

"So, what are you gonna do now? We can go to the theater, watch a movie." Warren suggested, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

"I'm sorry, I can't, Warren. I want to try out a new camera today. Maybe next time?" She offered, hoping that he wouldn't ask to come along with her. She couldn't appear at Mr. Jefferson's doorstep with Warren in tow. That would be much too awkward.

Warren couldn't hide his disappointment and mumbled. "Okay, but don't forget our trip to Portland. We have to find the _right piece of junk_."

"Don't worry, I won't forget. And you better ask Chewbacca to come with us. You'll probably need a good mechanic to fix your ride." She winked at him.

He laughed. "Ha ha, I'll fix it myself. That's what mad scientists do, you know? Let's text soon."

"Yeah, see you around, Warren." Max waved him good-bye and made her way to the school's bicycle area, hoping she wouldn't be late for Mr. Jefferson's next lesson.

There was this feeling of anticipation and excitement again. The prospect of visiting her photography teacher at his home made her quiver. Was she the first student he invited to his place?

 _'If Victoria knew she'd be really jealous.'_ Max thought as she took her bike, smiling to herself.

* * *

When Max arrived at Mr. Jefferson's house and got off her bike, she needed a few moments to take it all in. Her teacher lived in the outskirts of Arcadia Bay and this place was obviously a part of the posh neighborhood. His house looked very modern from the outside, the architect probably had a lot of fun designing Mr. Jefferson's home. The white mansion had a futuristic facade, arranged like three rectangle boxes combined to a sculptural piece of architecture. It also had large windows which most likely offered great views at the beautiful landscape garden surrounding the house from all sides.

 _'Wowsers, I'm not an architect design expert but this sure looks crazy.'_ Max thought as she approached the white wooden door, feeling a lump in her throat when she pushed the door bell button.

Mr. Jefferson opened the door, welcoming her with a warm smile. "Hey, Max. I'm glad you're here. Come on in."

Max was surprised to see him without his black blazer. He was only dressed in a black shirt with rolled up sleeves and wore a matching dark blue jeans, looking classy and sexy in his casual attire.

"Hi, and thanks again for the invitation, Mr. Jefferson." She replied shyly, entering his house slowly like a cautious cat and her blue eyes looking around curiously, trying to catch every single detail.

Everything was immaculately clean and tidy. There wasn't even a single grain of dust and Max wondered for a moment if Mr. Jefferson cleaned it all by himself or if he had a housekeeper.

The wooden floor and walls were all white while the modern furniture was mostly in a glossy black. All rooms were spacious and large windows offered a natural light source which made everything look very bright and inviting.

Some of Mr. Jefferson's famous black and white photography art prints decorated the blank walls and a few beautiful palm plants offered green spots here and there in an overall black and white color scheme. There were also abstract art sculpts standing in some corners as additional decoration and several glass cabinets displayed another part of his extensive camera collection.

It was all so overwhelming that Max couldn't decide where to look first. She went instinctively to the art prints, discovering photos she had never seen before. One particular photo caught her interest. It was a shot of a man holding his hands in front of his face as if he was protecting himself, his eyes wide open in fear. It was a haunting, yet powerful shot.

"Do you like this image?" Mr. Jefferson whispered into her ear with his lips barely touching her earlobe that Max nearly jumped out of her skin, being surprised that he was suddenly so close to her without her noticing his presence.

"Y-Yeah, it's an interesting shot. I-I've never seen this photo before. The style reminds me of Murnau's Dracula movie." She stammered, her mouth feeling dry as she turned her head to look at her teacher.

"Well, yes, it's one of my most recent works. I've used Alfred Hitchcock's work as inspirational source for this one. Just look at those eyes, Max. _This fear_ and _despair_. Black and white photography is _nothing_ without emotion. If you manage to capture moods and emotions in black and white, your shots will become truly _special and captivating_. Keep that in mind." He reminded her, watching her intently for a few seconds and then taking a deliberate step backwards, leaving her personal space.

Max felt relieved that Mr. Jefferson wasn't so close to her anymore. She was always so shy and nervous around him that she had a difficult time thinking with a clear head.

"I think it was Ted Grant who said that when _you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in black and white, you photograph their souls_." She cited and was glad she got it right. Thanks to reading a few books about black and white photography recently, this quote had been still fresh in her memory.

Mr. Jefferson gave her an approving nod, smiling. "That's a good quote, Max. It's so true. While I enjoy color photography, it doesn't move and excite me the same way as black and white photography does. It strongly resonates with me on a personal level which color shots never can."

He was now staring at her in an unfamiliar way, his calm voice sounding deeper than usual. "I must confess I love the idea that you can capture someone's essence, their emotions, their being - their soul in a single photo. And I believe it's only possible if you shoot in black and white."

"So is this the reason why you chose to make black and white your own style?" Max asked him in a curious tone, admiring his idea to capture the soul of his subject in her mind.

Mr. Jefferson agreed, adjusting his glasses. "To a high degree, yes. It doesn't mean i've abandoned color photography entirely. I still shoot in color every now and then. Sometimes you need a break from your own style and try out other things."

Max nodded at that. "Yes, this approach definitely helps me to get new ideas for my shots too."

"But enough about photography, how about some coffee? I promise you it'll be the best coffee you've ever had." He winked at her.

"If it's really the best coffee there is, count me in." She replied, smiling in return.

Max followed him to the kitchen. It was just as spacious as the other rooms. The cabinets were all black, showing a clear contrast to the white walls. The high-tech kitchen equipment looked quite expensive as well and Max couldn't help but stare in awe. Her mother would certainly love to cook in a kitchen like this one.

Mr. Jefferson took a bag of coffee beans out of a cabinet and placed it on the white counter. The label indicated that this was coffee from Kenya which was considered to be the best coffee among connoisseurs. To her surprise he used a Siphon Brewer to make his coffee.

 _'I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Siphon coffee is the most theatrical of all coffee brewing methods and Mr. Jefferson sure loves to show off his stuff.'_ Max thought, unable to hide her smile, watching him heat the bottom chamber of his Vacuum Brewer.

When the brewing process started, Mr. Jefferson looked up at her, saying. "Sometimes my colleagues and I used to play a little game while we were waiting for our coffee."

She arched her eyebrows. "What kind of game?"

"Well, we'd use the remaining time to think of an idea for a good shot. Anything that came to our minds. Want to give it a go?" He asked her, showing her a suggestive smile.

Max agreed. "Yes, why not? Sounds like fun."

They both sat on barstools at his kitchen table now, staring at the bottom chamber of his Siphon brewer as it was slowly filling with coffee.

Max tried hard to think of a good shot idea but her mind was blank. It was difficult to concentrate on the task when Mark Jefferson was sitting right opposite to her, with his brown eyes as pervasive as always.

 _'I can't think of anything interesting. That's why I'm a spontaneous photographer. I never plan on shooting something specific, I just capture a motif when I discover one. It's a huge difference.'_ She thought, grimacing when she realized that the coffee was ready and her time was up now.

"So, did you come up with anything interesting, Max?" Mr. Jefferson inquired as he handed her a cup of coffee. And Max declined taking sugar or milk, trying to appear as adult as possible in front of her teacher.

"Not really." Max replied, hoping that he wasn't disappointed now.

He chuckled. "Honestly, I was already expecting that, Max. It's not your approach to plan a shot in advance, right?"

"Yes, that's true. My shot ideas are mostly just spontaneous moments captured on Polaroid. Did you come up with anything, Mr. Jefferson?" She asked him, looking into Mr. Jefferson's dark brown eyes.

His lips formed a mysterious smile, a glint in his eyes. "I think I have _an idea_ , Max. But I think I need some time to work out the _details_."

Max gulped. The way he said it and the way he looked at her indicated that this idea was somehow involving her. And the sheer thought of him shooting her again sent goosebumps all over her body.

She tried to calm herself by taking a sip of her coffee and made a grimace. The flavor was rich and strong with a fragrant floral aroma but due to the lack of milk and sugar it was very bitter.

Mr. Jefferson laughed, amusement coloring his tone as he handed her the milk. "It tastes better with milk, Max."

She nodded sheepishly, pouring some milk in her coffee and tasting it again. It was a lot better now.

As Max looked around the kitchen again she noticed a closed door. It was strange because all doors were open here and only this one wasn't. That door clearly stood out.

 _'I wonder what's behind that door...'_ She thought, making already wild guesses in her mind.

Mr. Jefferson must have noticed her curious stare. He asked, raising his eyebrows. "What are you looking at?"

She pointed at the door behind him. "That door there. I wonder what's in there."

"Ah, _that_ door." He murmured with a thoughtful voice, his face showing an unreadable expression now.

 _'Is that some secret room that no one's allowed to see?'_ Her imagination was running wild again. What could be behind it? A torture chamber like in a horror movie? Or a fancy looking bathroom?

"Do you like to take a peek inside? Though, I must warn you. You'd be my first guest who would actually see it." Mr. Jefferson glanced at her, his deep voice still sounding strange in her ears.

"Um, what kind of room is this?" Max wanted to know, already fearing that she was overstepping her bounds as his guest. She didn't want to see anything that was so personal which she wasn't allowed to see.

 _'Damn, you're so nosy, Max.'_ She admonished herself in her thoughts.

"You'll see, Max. _Come_." With that he took her hand in his and guided her to that closed door.

Mr. Jefferson opened it and they both entered his room together. She didn't realize that she had held her breath for a moment.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes gazing around the room. It was full of cabinets which stored lots of portfolio folders as well as red and black binders.

"What is _this_?" Max asked, her blue eyes looking at all those binders.

He sighed, making an encompassing gesture towards the cabinets. "This is my room of _regret_ , Max. These are my photos which I've collected over all those years and which I never published."

"I don't understand. You always tell us we should have no fear and share our work with the world. _Why_?" Max asked, a puzzled expression on her face. Although she had to admit that she hoarded all her analog pictures as well. They were all kept in large boxes at her parents apartment.

"The name _Mark Jefferson_ is associated to a certain style. It has become a brand. If an agency hires me, they know what they want and they know what they get. My style of black and white. My other work will never be interesting enough to garner a huge audience." He explained, sighing and taking one of the black binders and flipping through its pages.

"Once my career started, things wouldn't stop. You're not allowed to stumble or make mistakes in the art world, you must always charge forward. Your success becomes an addiction, you want to surpass yourself over and over again. It goes on and on and you don't even know where the finish line is. You are overwhelmed by everyone's expectations. In the end, you reach a point where you just continue shooting photos you're not really content with. I once had a dream, Max. To take a shot which would move people's hearts. If I could influence their hearts and stir their emotions with one single shot, it would all be worth it."

He looked at her now, handing her the binder. "Now I use this room as a reminder who I once was. Because I nearly lost sight of what I wanted to achieve with my photography."

Max looked at the photos in the binder, staring at them with fascination in her eyes. There were beautiful cityscape shots of New York at night or still life pictures with an interesting contrast of light and shadow.

"These are all great shots, Mr. Jefferson. Just look at _this one_ here." She showed him a HDR photo, a colorful portrait of an old man's face. The colors were highly saturated and the focus was mainly on his many wrinkles and age spots, highlighting his age and letting this photo tell a story about this man.

"I don't think that this room is about regrets. I think it's a room about your _passion_ , your _obsession_ for photography, Mr. Jefferson." Max breathed and gave him his binder back, proposing. "I think you should really publish your work. You're a versatile photographer and your style is so much _more_ than just goth, chiaroscuro and art déco."

There was a strange gleam in Mr. Jefferson's brown eyes as he regarded her. As if he was somehow seeing her in a new light. "Thank you, Max. I'll consider this. Yet, for now I want to use all of my energies to support my students. I've had my moment in the spotlight. Now, I believe it's their turn."

Max was amazed just how much he seemed to trust her, showing her all this. Sharing your work as a photographer with someone else was always so intimate and personal. She had this feeling that she could understand him, and she especially understood his views about his work even better now.

This was something his other students like Victoria would never know. As if he had shared a secret only Max was allowed to hear. Her curiosity grew and she wanted to hear so much more about his thoughts about his art.

Gathering her courage, she asked him. "I wonder, how has your style changed, Mr. Jefferson? What do you try to capture now?"

Her photography teacher hesitated for a moment as if he was contemplating his next words, before answering, "Simply put, I'm obsessed with the idea of capturing innocence..." and he slowly took her hand in his, stroking it softly with his fingertips, his brown eyes watching her intently. "...before it evolves into corruption. That shift from black to white to gray and beyond."

Max swallowed. That was certainly a complicated theme he had chosen for his photography. "How do you find this innocence in your shots?"

Mr. Jefferson gave her a warm smile. "I find it in moments, Max. Or in people who radiate a strong aura of hope and optimism."

He cleared his throat. "Well, as much as I love to talk shop and chat about my own work, we're here to help _you_ improve your skills."

With that he led her back to his lounge where he had set up various kinds of home studio equipment.

First Mr. Jefferson showed her a photographic backdrop which came in a variety of different materials and textures such as canvas, vinyl or paper. For her purposes he advised her to use a simple bed sheet as background.

The topic became a bit more complex when he talked about the two primary choices for studio lighting, which were continuous and flash lighting. In her case he suggested to use the most available light there is, simple daylight. Her teacher emphasized she could try direct sunlight as well as indirect shaded light by using the window method to get the results she was going for.

Last but not least he did a small summary, comparing the pros and cons of umbrellas versus softboxes. Although softboxes were a little pricier, he recommended her to use these as they were perfect for shooting in a confined space such as her dorm room.

"I hope my overview of a possible home studio setup gave you some good ideas for your photography." Mr. Jefferson said, his facial expression stern as if he was giving a typical lecture in his classroom.

Max nodded. "Yeah, that was quite interesting, Mr. Jefferson. I'm just worried about those expensive softboxes but I guess I'll check online if I can find used ones."

He patted her shoulder softly. "Very good, Max. Now that our lesson is almost over and you're probably eager to eat your sushi, I want to give you one last final lecture for today."

" _Another_ lecture?" Max wanted to groan, watching Mr. Jefferson crossing his arms and looking at her with his dark hooded eyes.

His soothing voice was calming her again. "Shhh, don't be like that. This lecture is related to your next assignment. I want you to capture _my soul_ in a photograph."

Her mouth was wide open, muttering. "Capturing _your soul_? But-but _how_...?"

Mr. Jefferson's eyes were on hers again, his gaze almost overwhelming that she couldn't avert her eyes, even if she had wanted to. "Don't worry. I will assist you by giving you hints how to achieve that. First of all, to go about capturing the soul of a person we have to peel away the layers, think of it like peeling away the layers of an onion. Everyone of us has a front, an exterior we show to others. And we photographers have to dig deeper. We need to peel away these layers of our subjects to reveal their inner soul."

"But _how_ do we peel away these layers?" Max asked.

"That's a good question, Max. And I think it's better to give you a demonstration how I would try to capture your soul instead of talking and boring you with all the little details." He said, gesturing to her to move to a spot in front of the windows while he took his fancy Hasselblad H5D camera and connected it to a tripod.

She watched him working with his camera, yet she couldn't really see what he was doing there exactly. His back was turned to her and she could only guess that he was probably adjusting his camera and moving his tripod.

Her uneasiness was rising, not knowing what he had in mind made her anxious. And thinking that he wanted to show her how to peel away her layers to reveal her soul made her heart flutter.

 _'Try to chillax, Max. Your stress is unnecessary. It'll be fine. Just relax.'_ She told herself over and over again like a mantra.

When he was finally finished and turned around, his dark eyes stared deeply into hers. His expression now showed the concentrated look of a photographer who began to frame his subject in his mind's eye with his keen and knowing eyes. As if he could see something in her that she didn't see.

A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as he took a remote control in his hand, turning on his audio equipment.

Her ears picked up a slow jazz song. A female voice started singing. _Alone with a heart, a battered old heart. A heart that needs tender care._

Mr. Jefferson took a slow, deliberate step towards her direction, talking in a soothing voice. "Music always helps you to relax, right?"

"Y-yes." Max stammered, taking a step backwards instinctively.

Her teacher took another step forward which was met with her taking a further step back. "Don't be scared, Max. I won't bite."

His face lit up as an idea seemed to cross his mind and he paused in his tracks. "Why don't you ask me a question? Ask me anything that comes to your mind."

She frowned. "Anything?"

' _It should be a photography question, Sherlock_.' Max thought, her mind racing to find an adequate question.

"Um, I noticed you don't often use a tripod. How do you keep that steady grip on your camera to prevent blurry shots? I always have problems with that. My hands are sometimes shaky." Max muttered.

He gave her a wink. "I follow your simple rule _Keep calm and take a photo_."

" _My rule_?" She asked him, not understanding what he was hinting at.

Mr. Jefferson chuckled. "Do you remember? It was on your t-shirt the other day."

Her cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "Oh, _that one_. It's just a silly nerd shirt."

"It's simple, but true, Max. And to come back to your question, my secret is maybe my hobby. I practice archery. This sport helps me to stay very calm and to control my breathing. You see, taking an arrow shot or a shot with a camera isn't so different." He told her and sauntered closer to her.

Max tried to keep a certain distance between them. He took a step forward, she took a step back. Inch by inch she soon bumped into the dining table behind her, feeling like a fly caught in a spider's web. Her hands grasped the edge of the table, she held on to it as if it was an anchor, hoping it would somehow lessen her anxiety.

Her heart rate was increasing and she inhaled sharply as he was now standing in front of her, slightly tilting his head as he observed her quietly.

"I wish I could _read your mind_ now." Mr. Jefferson whispered in a low voice, a strange fascination visible in his dark brown eyes.

"I think you can already read my mind like an open book." Max murmured, her nervousness welling up inside her.

"Do you think so?" He asked her, an amused expression on his face now.

Max watched him leaning forward, feeling his lips ghost across the shell of her ear, whispering in a soft voice. "Max, I'm going to try something out. Just relax and don't be afraid."

With that he closed the small space between them and Max felt so surprised and confused by his sudden approach that she couldn't react or move away.

 _'Oh my God, what's going on here?'_ She wondered, feeling her cheeks heating and warmth spreading through her body.

Max was unable to even flinch when she realized his body was so close to her own now, their chests were almost touching one another.

He leaned down over her and his index finger slowly lifted her chin up so that he could stare directly into her eyes.

There was this captivated look in his brown eyes again as he admired her. "Oh, _look_ at your eyes, Max. Your iris, that dilation like a shutter. The shots you're taking of me now... _Beautiful_."

Her brain was slowly trying to catch up what was happening, she barely even registered him tenderly caressing her cheek with his fingers. His hand cupped her cheek now and much to her own surprise, her body betrayed her, leaning in to his warm touch.

 _'Is this supposed to be some kind of artistic shot? Why is Mr. Jefferson doing this? What the hell is happening here? And I know I shouldn't be attracted by my teacher. But damn it, I am. Why? It's wrong, Max! What are you doing?'_ The questions were whirling inside her head and her mind was a total mess, not being able to comprehend this.

It became a lot weirder when her eyes flickered to his lips for a second, wondering how they would feel against hers.

 _'Don't even think about it, idiot!'_ Max warned herself in her thoughts, seeing that knowing look on Mr. Jefferson's face as his lips turned upward, forming to a smirk.

"And here I thought you're immune to my charm." He teased her.

"I-I, um..." Max stammered, not knowing what to say.

Her blue eyes caught her own reflection in his glasses now, recognizing her own surprised face and her blinking eyes there, frozen like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

It was in this very moment she heard the clicking sound of the shutter and a sudden flash of light almost blinded her vision.

Mr. Jefferson seemed pleased, he whispered smoothly. "We photographers call this the _unguarded moment_ , Max. It's a moment you drop your guard, a moment you reveal your true self to the camera."

As strange as it was Max couldn't deny that his approach had worked. She didn't keep track of his camera and she had completely forgotten that it was even there.

"The _unguarded moment_?" Max repeated, blinking slowly and feeling her stiff muscles beginning to relax, realizing that the tension in the air was gone now.

"I believe this term was first used by Geoff Dyer. It's okay, Max. You'll _understand_ once you see our photo." Mr. Jefferson assured her in a calm tone, disconnecting his camera from his tripod and switching on the small viewfinder screen.

Max swallowed, asking. "Were you able to _capture_ my soul in this shot?"

Mr. Jefferson chuckled lightly, looking up from his camera screen for a moment. "Oh Max, believe me, I'll need much more shots to truly capture the _beauty_ of your soul."

His eyes returned to the small screen, marveling at his photo. "Ah, this is _perfect_."

He gave her the camera, tilting his head and his scrutinizing eyes watching her closely as he asked. "Max, tell me, what do you _see_?"

Max frowned, her eyes analyzing the picture.

 _'He really caught me in an unguarded moment here.'_ She thought, seeing her facial expression full of emotion. Surprise, discomfort, confusion, uncertainty and even desire. It was all there.

While she was like a torrent of conflicting emotions in this shot, Mr. Jefferson appeared perfectly calm, confident and in control. He showed this knowing smirk as if he was aware what was going on inside her.

And their faces were so close to one another they almost looked like lovers. He was dressed in black and she wore a white t-shirt and light-blue jeans. Darkness meeting light, or darkness embracing light. They drew each other in as if they were opposites attracted to one another.

The overall theme of light and dark was ever present here. His shoulder was covered in shadow, her back was bathed in bright sunshine.

Max felt this image was so complex, it left plenty of room for interpretation.

His voice cut through her thoughts, repeating his question. "What do you _see_?"

"Darkness seducing light." She breathed, unable to take her eyes off this photo.

He arched an eyebrow, an amused smile appearing on his lips. " _Seduction_? That's an interesting interpretation."

"And _what_ do you see, Mr. Jefferson?" She wanted to know, her gaze wandering to his face.

His eyes found hers and for a moment she had the impression that he wanted her to realize a truth which she couldn't see. Mr. Jefferson took her hand in his and his voice turned to a soft whisper. "I see a _connection_ , Max."


	6. Chapter 5 Manipulation

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: A big thank you to Debra Smith, tur1823 and Velial13 for reviewing. It means a lot and is very much appreciated.**_

 **Chapter 5: Manipulation**

The dorm room was pitch black when Max sat up on her bed, her eyes getting slowly accustomed to the darkness. She didn't need to glance at the luminous digits of her clock to know it was still way too early in the morning. It was close to 5am and she wasn't able to sleep any longer. In fact, she didn't sleep much the whole night, lying restless on the bed, tossing and turning and being exposed to a whirlwind of her own thoughts. Her mind was still a total mess after everything that had happened yesterday afternoon at Mr. Jefferson's house.

He had showed her how to capture her soul by shooting her in an unguarded moment. His whole approach had been such an overwhelming experience that her brain kept replaying these moments over and over again, like a weird movie on constant repeat.

Although Mr. Jefferson had explained what he had been trying to achieve with his session, she was still perplexed. Talk to the subject, help the subject to relax, let the subject ask a question, tell something about yourself and make physical contact with the subject. Her teacher did all these steps in a manner that felt like a crash course. A demonstration which disclosed how to get to that one particular moment where she dropped her guard.

As Max had gone through all these stages she had felt like a passenger strapped into a crazy roller coaster. She wanted to leave in the middle of the ride, knowing full well that she couldn't. That it had been impossible. So she had stayed till the end and was even more clueless and confused now than before.

The way he had looked at her. That strange fascination and that gleam in his eyes when they were so close to each other. That intensity burning in his brown eyes as if he could somehow stare straight into the deepest depths of her soul. The strong scent of his expensive cologne surrounding her as his chest almost touched hers. The feel of his warm hand on her cheek, stroking her so gently and slowly. In that one moment her stomach had stirred like a butterfly feeling in her belly.

Max sighed, struggling to suppress the unbidden thoughts that were already forming and infecting the corners of her mind. _'Don't delude yourself, you stupid idiot. Mr. Jefferson just wanted to get his lecture across to you. He didn't mean to...'_

And then there it was again. This damn photo kept showing up in her inner mind's eye. Their faces so close, their eyes staring at each other almost like lovers and his words whispering and echoing in her ears. _I see a connection, Max._

She rubbed her head, thinking hard. _'He sees a connection... What kind of connection? What does he mean by that? A connection through our passion for photography? Or maybe more? He wants me to see it, to realize it. But I don't understand what he's trying to tell me. It's all so strange and confusing.'_

It was all too much. And brooding over everything didn't get her anywhere. It solved nothing and only raised new questions. Sighing, the young woman rose up from her bed and grabbed her shower supplies. Maybe a long, warm shower would help clear her head and get all those obscure thoughts out of her system.

Max was in luck, she had the whole bathroom to herself. Hot steaming water ran down her body, engulfing and warming her. Since no one was here she took more time than usual, enjoying the splashes of water on her skin and leaning her head against the cold shower wall for a few moments to forget the whole world around her.

When she was finished and got out, she definitely felt refreshed and more awake than before. Fully motivated and ready for action she decided to shoot some test images with her new monochrome camera. After connecting the camera to a tripod and turning it to face her couch and setting a timer, she also twiddled with the lights in her room to achieve a good tonal contrast.

A content sigh escaped her lips when her preparations were done. Max walked over to her wardrobe and put on her pink t-shirt with the white doe on the front and donned her blue jeans. Sitting down on her couch with her guitar, she first tried some simple chords as exercise.

 _'I'll play José González Crosses, it has a nice soothing tune.'_ She decided finally, her fingers strumming on the strings, playing the catchy melody.

 _'Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you through your weakest moments to leave them behind you.'_ Max sang along in her mind, closing her eyes and trying to relax.

 _Click._ Her ears barely registered the clicking sound of the camera shutter.

She was somewhere else again. Her mind was playing tricks on her, conjuring the face of Mark Jefferson with that knowing smile playing on his lips. Max opened her eyes instantly, blinking a few times as if she could somehow remove his image from her mind, feeling the agitation rise inside her again.

 _Click._ The camera went off a second time but she ignored it completely, being lost again in her own vivid memories. Her right hand moved up slowly, touching that same spot on her cheek where she still sensed the ghost of his caress, where his fingers had stroked her in a tender motion. Max blushed as she remembered how she had felt and reacted in that very moment, clearly responding to his touch.

How could Mr. Jefferson make her feel like this, just by looking into her eyes? That look of fascination on his face as if he was worshipping her. His keen gaze had been so mesmerizing, like a magnetic pull, inevitably drawing her to him. And the realization slowly sank in that she had been completely under his spell in that instant. No one had ever made her feel that way.

 _Click._ Her ears picked up the sound of the camera now and she swallowed, thinking that she had to cancel this session and turn it off. Max couldn't take these shots. She couldn't see herself like that and didn't want anyone else to see this. This emotional state of her inner turmoil. It was too much, too embarrassing.

 _'Damn, just admit it, Max! You have a crush on your teacher! Get yourself together! You know it's wrong!'_ Max told herself, knowing with an ache in her heart that Mr. Jefferson would never reciprocate her feelings. Her teacher was a genius and one of her heroes in photography.

And his presence was always intimidating her, making her feel so small beside him. He was way out of her league and there was no way in hell that he would ever see more in her than just a student. Not only was Mr. Jefferson older than her, a relationship between a teacher and a student was also illegal. He'd have to risk his job to be with her and he'd never be so foolish and do something like that.

Although there were some rumors going around here that Mr. Jefferson had supposedly slept with one of his students near campus. Max didn't know the details nor who spread these rumors in the first place and frankly, she didn't really care. It was unthinkable and highly unlikely that Mr. Jefferson would ever do such a thing. Max couldn't believe it to be true. It was impossible.

This man was superchill, charming and charismatic of course. It was all a part of his hip, trendy and cool teacher appearance and attitude. Mr. Jefferson knew that his students all loved him, he clearly enjoyed having their attention, that they all treated him like a famous star of the photography world. But he was also arrogant, aloof and pretentious at times, keeping a certain distance to his students with that goal in his mind to prepare them all to become a full-fledged, successful artist someday.

 _'Get a life, Max!'_ She reprimanded herself, not wanting to turn into another Victoria or Stella who both made no secret of the fact that they would totally have sex with their art lecturer. Max knew she was better than that and she would never be like them. Yes, she would still secretly admire Mr. Jefferson and be flustered around him. But it would never go any further than that. That she swore to herself.

Although she sometimes wished in private, it would be more. Mr. Jefferson understood her like no one else, they could chat about photography all day long and it would never be boring. If only the other boys her age would be more mature and more understanding like her teacher.

Max never had a boyfriend in her life compared to other Blackwell girls like Juliet or Dana. To her the young men around here were all childish and still behaving like silly brats. Maybe Evan Harris was the only one of the boys here at Blackwell who shared her enthusiasm for photography in a similar fashion. However, they didn't get along all that well and rarely talked. Evan always behaved like a selfish snob who was only interested in his own work and building up his portfolio. He was always curious what others thought about his photos, yet he didn't care about the photography of his classmates.

And Warren... Well, Warren was Warren. An adorable and awkward geek just like herself. And Max was still unsure if she would ever feel differently about him. That he could be more than just a good friend.

Max sighed, realizing she was zoning out again. _'I need to get out and get my mind on to other things. Or I'll surely go crazy in here.'_ She thought, already stuffing her diary, cellphone and monochrome camera into her bag.

As she entered the dorm's floor, she heard muffled noises and music coming from some of the other rooms. It seemed the other girls were also waking up now. For a moment Max considered to visit her classmate Kate Marsh. But as she stood at her door and wanted to knock, she stopped, frowning.

She checked her cellphone and noticed that Kate hadn't replied to her text messages yet. But there was a new message from her mother.

Max opened it and couldn't believe what she had just read, thinking. _'Are you kidding me?'_.

 _-Mom: Maxine, your principal sent me an email saying you accused a Blackwell honor student of hurting you. The principal said there was no evidence. And he is worried you attempted to slander this student. Please call me so we can talk about this. Mom.-_

 _'Crap, if my mom received such a mail, then maybe Kate's parents got one too. I hope she's okay.'_ Max thought, remembering their trouble with Nathan Prescott and everything that had transpired afterwards. She had tried to meet Kate but she had kept to herself most of the time.

 _'Maybe she just needs some time for herself.'_ Max guessed and walked away, thinking it was better to wait for Kate till she was feeling better. If she wanted to talk, Max would always be there for her.

The young student headed for the exit now and stopped in her tracks, hearing quiet sobs clearly coming from the direction of Dana's dorm room. Max didn't want to disturb her, so she tiptoed now, hoping to pass her room without the cheerleader detecting her presence. However, her damn curiosity got in the way and she couldn't restrain herself from taking a peek inside.

Dana was sitting cross-legged on her bed with slumped shoulders, her face full of tears. She held a book in her lap but Max couldn't make the book title out. It was strange but this image of Dana sitting there had a sad, ethereal beauty to it. The first golden rays of sunlight spotlighted her cuddled form, creating a magical moment and atmosphere here.

 _'Always take the shot.'_ Mr. Jefferson's calm voice whispered in her mind.

Without thinking twice she automatically took out her monochrome camera and turned it towards Dana. Max changed her position and focused on her subject, watching her through the eyepiece. Holding her breath and keeping a steady grip on her camera, she took the shot.

The flash went off and Dana's head shot up in confusion. And her confusion soon turned into anger as she spotted Max standing there at her dorm room's entrance with a camera in her hands.

"Why are you so nosy Max? You're like a crazy paparazzi! I can't believe it!" Dana cried, the hurt clearly visible on her facial features.

 _'Great Max. You've hurt her feelings. Why did I even take this shot? I shouldn't have done that. It's so wrong.'_ Max thought and felt miserable, wishing she had the power to rewind time to undo what she had done.

Max tried to apologize to her, taking a step towards her, murmuring. "Dana, I'm so sorry."

But Dana didn't want to hear any of her excuses and cut her off, waving her hand at her in a dismissive gesture. "Go, Max. There's no more gossip for you here. Just go!"

Max sighed and left her. It was obvious that Dana was offended and hurting. How could she be so insensitive and take a photo of her in this situation? That didn't feel like her at all. It was as if something inside her had changed. Something that told her to prioritize the shot above anything else.

The old Max would have never done something like that. _'I really have a talent to hurt those I care about. First Chloe, and now Dana. And maybe even Kate too. I'm the worst person ever.'_ Max thought, sitting alone on the bench outside and staring at the Tobanga totem in silence.

When she realized that she still held the camera in her hand, she turned on the viewfinder screen and selected Dana's image. Her curiosity was too strong, she couldn't resist to take a closer look at Dana's book cover, zooming it in.

Max could identify the book title now. _How to be a great Baby Mama by Dr. Bill._

 _'Good lord, Dana is pregnant? I didn't know. No wonder she was so upset and angry at me. It's really none of my business and I shouldn't stick my nose into everything. Dana's right. I'm a fucking nosy paparazzi.'_ Max thought, feeling angry with herself.

Her day was really off to a great start and she spent her next school lessons worrying about Dana and feeling guilty. Max hated it that she couldn't apologize to Dana right now, fearing that Dana might abandon her just like Max had abandoned her best friend Chloe. And it was all her fault. She shouldn't have taken that damn shot. She was so concerned with blaming herself that she didn't even realize she was sitting in Mr. Jefferson's class now.

 _'Great. As if this day can't get any worse now...'_ Max thought, grimacing and staring down at her notebook on her desk, acting as if she was busy reading something important in there. She couldn't look at Mr. Jefferson right now. The memories of him were still too fresh in her mind.

 _'I hope he leaves me alone.'_ Max hoped, stealing a quick glance at Kate who also seemed to be down today.

The art classroom was filled with excited whispers, her ears picked up a mix of different voices talking about a contest announcement. Really? A contest announcement? Did she hear that right?

 _'Huh, a contest? God, I hate this stuff. I'm always scared shitless, procrastinate the remaining time and enter nothing at the end. I'm such a loser.'_ Max thought, sighing heavily and wishing she'd possess a fast forward button to skip this entire lecture to get back to her dorm room as fast as possible. If she could just lie down and relax on her bed, listening to Syd Matters for the rest of the day. That might somehow help to forget this whole shitty day.

After the school bell rang Mr. Jefferson stood up from his chair behind his desk and Max immediately felt his eyes upon her. She ducked down instinctively, not being able to look into those scrutinizing brown eyes.

"Today, I'm happy to announce..." He began and suddenly Victoria stood up, raising her hand to get his attention.

Max rolled her eyes at that and heard Mr. Jefferson ask. "Yes, what is it, Victoria?"

"It's the _Everyday Heroes_ contest, am I right, Mr. Jefferson?" She wanted to know, her excitement audible in her voice.

"Yes, indeed, you're well informed, Victoria." Mr. Jefferson nodded at her and Victoria beamed, sitting down again.

Mr. Jefferson continued, walking around the class and handing out his flyers. "As Victoria already predicted, Blackwell Academy will be participating in the prestigious ' _Everyday Heroes_ ' contest. The winner of this national contest will fly to San Francisco with me where his or her work will be displayed at the famous Zeitgeist gallery. It's great exposure and this can kickstart a career in photography. So, I expect everyone of you to enter. Please keep in mind the deadline is October 9. I would strongly advise you not to waste your time and think carefully what you want to submit."

Her teacher was in front of her desk now, his eyes lingering on her. Max felt her heart pounding, her eyes looking up hesitantly to meet his. Max didn't know if Mr. Jefferson sensed the tension within her and if he did, he didn't let it show.

He leaned down over her desk to whisper in a low tone so that only Max would be able to hear him. "Max, I do hope you take this chance and enter a photo. I'm looking forward to your entry and I'm fairly certain you will _exceed_ my expectations."

Max stared at him with a surprised expression on her face and he only smirked in return, leaving her and sauntering over to Victoria and Taylor.

 _'Wow, talk about setting the bar very high, huh? Just when I thought I didn't feel enough pressure here...'_ She thought, holding back a sigh.

Victoria probably witnessed Mr. Jefferson talking to Max for a moment, a look of jealousy on her face as she asked her teacher in an irritated voice. "Is it really okay that Max enters a selfie, Mr. Jefferson? I mean selfies shouldn't be allowed in a reputable contest such as this one."

Max made a face when she heard Victoria say that. As if her photography only contained selfies and nothing else. Victoria was so snobbish and biased against her, only seeing her outward appearance and labeling her as a poor selfie hipster.

"There are no regulations which exclude selfie photos from this contest, Victoria. Everything is allowed as long as it's a photo submission that represents yourself or others in heroic action." Mr. Jefferson made clear, taking his time to show the blond student the respective text in the flyer.

Victoria glared at Max, whispering to Taylor. "My entry _won't_ lose against a dumb selfie." Taylor just giggled in response and Max only sighed. Her day was already bad and she didn't need the Queen Beeatch and her Vortex minions to make it worse.

After handing out all his flyers Mr. Jefferson returned to his usual spot in front of Daniel's desk to start his next lesson. "Today we'll be talking about Image Manipulation before there was Neonvault, Photoshop and all the other image editing software. Before we had all these wonderful tools at our disposal we had the _darkroom_."

The art teacher began to pace around the classroom, his brown eyes moving from one student to the next one as he explained. "Photographers of that time devised a staggering array of techniques such as combination printing, photomontage, overpainting, ink and airbrush retouching, sandwiched negatives, multiple exposures and lots of other darkroom magic. Now, does anyone know the name of the photographer who was known as the _master_ of the darkroom?"

Max felt Mr. Jefferson stare at her, he was probably wondering why she didn't raise her hand although she knew the answer. And Max just wasn't in the mood to take part in class today. Her thoughts were all about Dana and how she felt sorry for taking that damn picture. She just couldn't concentrate, or didn't even want to focus on the lecture today.

Mr. Jefferson's gaze moved to Stella Hill who indicated with her hand that she knew the answer.

"Ansel Adams." Stella replied confidently, twirling her pencil between her fingers.

"Very good, Stella. Ansel Adams was a master of dodging and burning in the darkroom. He has developed techniques for manipulating images to conform his artistic vision. Just look at his iconic shot _Moonrise_ or such inspiring shots as _Monolith_ or _The Face of Half Dome_. He achieved dramatic effects which demonstrate how photographers can show you the world how they see it through their own artistic vision."

Max listened to her teacher now talking about the artistic vision of a photographer and how image manipulation can help to further his or her vision. And he pointed out that artistic photography is purely for the sake of expressing the artist's vision and feelings, highlighting the aesthetic and inspirational value of an image. At the end of Mr. Jefferson's lecture he summed up that the artistic eye considers lighting, framing, angle, composition, the background and how it complements the subject, forming all these to a unified whole.

As the bell rang he gave them all the assignment to write an essay describing their own artistic vision and how they want to achieve it. Sighing, Max packed her items, catching Victoria in the corner of her eye as she hurried to get to Mr. Jefferson who was heading up towards his desk. For once Max hoped that Victoria would serve as a perfect distraction so that she could sneak out of this classroom.

She managed to follow right after her classmate Daniel and was almost at the door as someone grasped her forearm from behind. The grip was firm, yet gentle and Max already knew who it was, smelling the scent of a familiar cologne in her nose.

Inhaling sharply, she turned around.

She met his gaze, her attention now completely fixed on Mr. Jefferson as he said in a concerned tone. "Max, we need to talk."

"Uh, and Victoria? I think she wanted to talk to you first." Max murmured and only realized now that Victoria was nowhere to be seen, she was already gone.

"I have asked Victoria to discuss her work at a later time." Mr. Jefferson told her and gave her a questioning look.

"Max, I noticed that you seem absentminded today. Are you alright?" He asked, tilting his hand slightly.

Max averted her eyes, staring at an empty spot of the room and muttering. "I-I'm okay, really."

Mr. Jefferson sighed, his mouth turning down at the corners in displeasure. "You're a better photographer than a liar, Max. I can see that you're _not_ okay. I'm your teacher. Please, let me _help_ you."

The young student smiled reluctantly, thinking that it would be somehow rude to decline his offer to help her after everything he had done for her. She looked up and agreed at last. "Fine, let's talk."

Her teacher seemed content and nodded at Kate. "Kate, thank you for your help. That will be all for today."

"You're welcome. Bye, Mr. Jefferson. See you later, Max." Kate said with a faint smile, taking her bag.

And Max smiled in return as Kate walked past her. "See you, Kate."

Mr. Jefferson gestured with his hand to follow her, locking the classroom and suggesting. "Let's go to my office."

The memory of her last time in his office suddenly came to her mind. His proposal to offer her private lessons. She had learned so much during all their time together. It almost felt like it was a long time ago. As if she had gotten so used being around him that it was hard to imagine how it all was before she met him.

They were standing in front of his office door now and Max felt this strange sensation again. Lately, their meetings had become somehow exhausting. Not physically but mentally exhausting, leaving her drained on an emotional level. As if her teacher possessed the ability to invade her mind, changing her whole being in the process.

She observed that Mr. Jefferson was once again a perfect representation of darkness in his black jacket suit and dark jeans. It reminded her of a passage from _The Sound of Silence_ lyrics by Simon and Garfunkel.

 _Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk to you again._

 _'It seems I can't escape your darkness, Mr. Jefferson. It's always with me. Embracing me. Engulfing me. Becoming a part of me.'_ Max thought as she entered his office, her excitement growing again, not really knowing what to expect here this time.

* * *

Mr. Jefferson led his student inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes followed Max as she took a few careful steps forward, probably making sure there was a space between them. An acceptable distance.

He wished he could close the distance between them right now, becoming more and more aware of the growing magnetism that was developing between him and his student. It took a considerable amount of self-restraint to stay at his spot, granting Max her personal space.

There was clearly something on her mind. She looked troubled, sad even. And Mr. Jefferson felt the strong urge to help her. A lot had changed in these past few days. At first he only saw her as a possible candidate for a dark room photo session but he also considered the possibility that she could be so much more than just a subject. Max had a gift and that alone made her truly special in his eyes.

Her visit at his home had allowed him to get a glimpse how she perceived his art and it had astonished him. Unlike Nathan she showed signs that she could be the one to understand the intention and brilliancy behind his vision.

Max had always been in his thoughts now. Not even a single day went by when he didn't catch himself thinking about her. Yesterday evening he had tried to come up with new ideas for his upcoming session with sweet Kate Marsh. Mr. Jefferson had tried to search for suitable props or contemplate different postures.

However, he couldn't really focus on the task at hand. His mind kept remembering his lecture with Max and his eyes had automatically wandered from Kate's profile picture to his photo with Max all the time.

The way he had been able to evoke all these emotions in her. It was this concentrated bundle of emotions that gave their image so much strength, so much power. If Max would only realize how wonderful and brilliant she was. A raw diamond only waiting to be sharpened by him.

Had he developed an obsession? He wasn't really sure what it was. But he couldn't deny that this young woman entranced him and he wanted to spend more time with her, to get to know her better.

The photography teacher had never felt such a fascination in a long time. Well, Rachel Amber came close once.

Their photos had a sense of familiarity and comfort as they weren't staged, consequently having an inherent eroticism. He had captured private moments that are usually invisible to the camera lens, allowing a glimpse into Rachel's world.

But his photo with Max was different of course. While Rachel had exhibited an extraordinary degree of trust and security as she entrusted herself to him and surrendered completely, Max still held her shields up. Mr. Jefferson purposefully probed her shields like a skilled surgeon, teasing her and detecting small cracks in her walls. Through these cracks he spotted her bare before him, enjoying all her conflicting emotions on display in front of him.

His eyes regarded her and he carefully chose his next words, trying to look appeasing. "Max, I want to apologize if my last lecture was too brisk for you. I must confess I've been completely absorbed in our last session and I didn't mean to scare you."

Max looked at him now, giving him a weak smile, "It's okay, Mr. Jefferson, really. Your lecture was...", she paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words and continued "quite intense. But I think I've learned a lot."

"Then, tell me, what's bothering you? Is it Nathan Prescott? Has he hurt you again?" He asked her, thinking to himself that Nathan's little drama scene had played right into his hands, killing two birds with one stone.

On the one hand this incident had showed him Kate's vulnerability. There were signs that her strong spirit could be broken. She maybe needed just another push to plunge into the darkness. And on the other hand Nathan's outburst had worked in his favor to pull Max closer to him. She was starting to trust him, to seek his help. It was all easier than he had initially anticipated.

"No, it's not about Nathan." Max replied, her voice sounding more quiet now.

Mr. Jefferson gave her a concerned look, taking a deliberate step towards her direction. "What is it then? We both know you're not okay. Please, _talk_ to me, Max."

Max narrowed her eyes, sighing. "I took a picture today. A picture which I shouldn't have taken. It was wrong and I feel shitty about it."

Mr. Jefferson frowned, curiosity in his voice as he asked her. "What kind of picture?"

His student avoided his questioning gaze and stared at the ground now, as if she was feeling guilty. Max muttered, "I-It's a picture of a classmate. She was in pain and crying and I...", she shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her face to look back at him. "I-I heard your voice and I-I took the shot. I-I felt like a goddamn paparazzi, or worse, like a stalker who didn't respect her privacy."

He said nothing and stared at her with a worried expression on his face, listening to her. It was unexpected that he already had such an influence on her and that she took that shot. So much progress in such a short amount of time. To witness the evolution of her artistic vision, to see it grow under his guidance, it was truly intriguing. If he could free her from her misconception, she could have the potential to become so much more, to transform into something like him, even.

Max hung her head and allowed the tears to roll down her face, her voice quiet and hoarse. "I-I don't understand it. I-It's like I'm not _me_ anymore. As if I have _changed_."

Mr. Jefferson was basking in the moment, trying to soak in every detail and commit as much as he could to his memory. So much emotion. This was a perfect display of her youthfulness, being young and having all these strong, intense feelings. The emotions of adults have a tendency to become dull after experiencing and seeing so much pain and hardships in their lives. That's the reason why it was so refreshing to see the young feel so strongly, letting their emotions flow through them without repressing them.

 _'When I'm with you, Max, I remember the treasure which I've forgotten. The treasure of youth.'_ He thought and was once again certain that they had formed a strange, yet genuine bond. Max was the sun shining through his darkness. The light next to his shadow. Yin and Yang. Black and White. One couldn't exist without the other. They complemented and needed one another.

 _'Now, in this moment, let me be the one to_ _help you. Let me be the one to_ _set you free from all this sorrow you're feeling.'_ Her teacher approached her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

"Shhh, don't cry, Max." He said, using his usual soft voice and feeling her tense body slowly relaxing under his arms.

Max leaned her head against his chest now and he used this opportunity and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, inhaling and delighting in the sweet strawberry scent of her hair. It was exciting that Max allowed this intimacy. Her fingers were curling around his suit jacket, she was clearly seeking comfort in his embrace.

It felt familiar to calm her, since Nathan also sought his teacher's reassuring hugs and comforting words a lot of times. He acted as a substitute father, being there for the boy during his many fits of rage and mental breakdowns. But with Max it felt different somehow.

This physical closeness appeared to affect him more than he cared to admit to himself. This wasn't love. Not that he was incapable of feeling affection or love for someone else. Mr. Jefferson desired Max, of course. That became all the more clear to him as he felt jealous whenever this boy, Warren Graham was hanging out with her. There was something about her that he still hadn't figured out yet. Something that made him feel this way.

However, he would never let his urges and desires get in the way of his art. It had always been important to him to stay in control and to keep his emotions in check. This procedure had helped him a lot during his career and it was also useful in his many sessions.

Well, there were times when he couldn't contain his frustration or anger if a shot didn't turn out the way as he had intended. Besides that he also struggled many times to hide his excitement when Max was near him. Her passion and her innocence captivated him, they inspired him. She wasn't like all the other girls before her.

To him his previous models were like fragile stars. When their sessions ended, they became stardust. The magic, the sensation and wonder were gone. Like fleeting moments turning to dust before his eyes. He could only shoot these moments, capture them in his photographs so that they would live on forever in his art. Each and every session quenched his thirst for a while but it was never enough. It was never enough to fill this emptiness in his heart.

Though he was certain this would never happen with Max. She could become his muse. His inspiration. A session in the dark room would never do her justice. It wouldn't be enough to capture her essence, her soul. Everything that made Max who she is. He needed more time and above all he needed her in his life.

Mr. Jefferson used his hold to tighten his grip around her, his motion almost looking possessive as his hands slid down her back, whispering to her in a soothing voice. "Shhh. It's alright. I can assure you you're not a paparazzi. You have a good heart, Max. It was never your intention to hurt this person. And I can't imagine you uploading this picture on social media sites either."

He paused, letting the words sink in for a moment and his hands rubbing her consolingly on the back. Max still leaned against his chest, shaking her head and murmuring. "I would never do that to Dana."

He gave her a reassuring smile in return. "I know. As I said you're not a paparazzi. A paparazzi only cares about shooting the most embarrassing photo of his subject for money, not for artistic purposes."

Mr. Jefferson tilted her head up gently so that he could stare directly into her eyes, telling her. "You're an _artist_ , Max. You chose to capture the beauty in sadness. You see, tragedy is one of the main components of our life. There are obstacles we must overcome. Because if we didn't, there would be no purpose in life. Tragedy makes us stronger. Always remember, there's no humanity without despair and there's no light without sorrow."

Her teacher reached out with a deliberate motion of his hand and let his fingers graze her cheek in a caring gesture, leaning downward to speak directly into her ear, asking her. "Tell me, Max. What did you _think_ when you clicked the shutter in that moment? What did you _feel_?"

Max blinked at him, briefly thinking how to answer his question and then replied, muttering. "I-I didn't really think much in that moment. I just took the shot."

She turned her head now, deep in thought, murmuring in a quiet voice. "And what I felt... I think it was excitement. I saw beauty in that moment and it felt meaningful to me, that it moved me."

Mr. Jefferson nodded at her. "As I have taught you before black and white photography is only powerful if you find subjects who exude powerful emotions. You look for moments when your subject feels happy, sad, anxious, stressed, hurt, or even mad. And if you feel that this one special moment is meaningful to you, that it arouses feelings in you and that it stirs something in your heart, you should always take the shot, Max."

Max seemed unsure now, biting her bottom lip nervously as she raised her eyes. "W-Would you _look_ at it and t-tell me what you think?"

His expression softened noticeably. "Only if it's really okay with you, Max."

"It's okay." She assured him, her hands already fumbling with her monochrome camera, taking out the SD memory card.

He connected the card to his laptop and opened the folder, selecting the newest image file. His experienced eyes scrutinized Max's shot, getting an overall impression first and dissecting all the little details to assess it. Her teacher was proud, Max captured the mood perfectly in this photo. The lighting also worked in her favor here, highlighting her classmate Dana Ward as her model.

"It's important here to behold this image, rather than see. This photo tells us a story. A chain of events and choices led to this point and your camera captured the feeling and emotional power here. I often tell my students that photography is like poetry. A combination of composition and mostly mood as well as emotion. This shot is almost perfect." Mr. Jefferson told her.

" _Almost_ perfect?" Max echoed, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Well, I think if you would have zoomed in a touch here, your subject would become more prominent in this shot. Do you see?" He zoomed in and the focus was on Dana Ward now, the viewer's eye not distracted by her dorm room's surroundings anymore.

She agreed. "Yes, you're right. This is definitely better."

"Let's see... what else did you capture today?" He already clicked on the next image and Max was suddenly tense and nervous, trying to stop him.

"No, please, Mr. Jefferson. These shots were just test shots. They're really bad." She muttered, a look of embarrassment all over her face.

Seeing Max protest like that only aroused his curiosity and he wanted to view her pictures all the more now. "Let me be the one to criticize these photos, Max." He told her firmly and observed her image now, his eyebrows rising in amazement. "I didn't know you play guitar, Max. You're full of surprises. That's wonderful."

Max appeared flustered. "I-I'm not all that good. It's just a hobby."

"Still, I'm impressed." He said and opened the next image, expecting a similar photo. But this was entirely different and his eyes widened in surprise, taking it all in.

In this image Max still sat on her couch with her guitar in her lap but one of her hands was touching her cheek and that expression on her face. That expression reminded him of their photo where they stared into each other's eyes. Her face full of emotion like in this shot.

Mr. Jefferson tried not to openly smile as it became clear to him that he truly affected Max, that all his careful manipulation and planning was finally bearing fruit. It was obvious she had developed a little bit of a crush on him which was rather amusing. Of course many of his female students fell in love with him and it wasn't unheard of for impressionable young students to admire older authority figures, and for that admiration to shift to the amorous side.

Most of the times he ignored and turned down their obvious advances. On the one hand he had to keep up the facade of a diligent and earnest teacher and on the other hand he wasn't interested in putting his job on the line and thus threatening his good reputation.

There was only one exception where he would use this to his advantage. If a student was on his list as his next subject, he would exploit her affection which would make it easier to drug his subject.

And with Max this became a different matter altogether. She was so innocent and pure that he couldn't resist the temptation to seduce her, to corrode her resistance and to see how far he could take her into his darkness. Slightly tainted but still pure. Her strong light surrounded by his darkness. Mr. Jefferson was very fond of such contrasts since it was also a perfect representation of his own art.

Mr. Jefferson looked up from his screen, he couldn't hide his fascination as his gaze met hers. "This is _breathtaking_ , Max."

Max blinked at him, color rising to her cheeks, muttering. "I-I don't think that..."

He placed his index finger on her lips, silencing her with a teasing smile playing on his lips. Seeing her like that, it made him want to reach out and touch her cheeks to feel the flushed skin underneath his fingertips. He resisted, however, trying to measure his next words. "Shhh, quiet, Max. It seems our little session has left an impression on you. Perhaps we should do it more often to get even _better_ shots. What do you think?"

Mr. Jefferson let his words and the implication of something else sink in, noticing a change in her expression, she was clearly becoming flustered.

"Mr. Jefferson, I, um, ..." Max stammered and she suddenly held her breath as a loud knock on the door disturbed them.

"Mr. Jefferson? Can I come in? It's me, Victoria Chase. I thought we could review my photos now. Mr. Jefferson? Are you here? Hello?" They heard Victoria shout as if she was thinking her teacher was deaf, knocking insistently at his office door.

"Jeez, this woman never gives me a break." He whispered in an annoyed tone and took his laptop, pointing a finger at his window.

His student caught the hint and raised her eyebrows, asking in a low tone. " _Really_? Are you cereal?"

But Mr. Jefferson just winked at her and already opened his large window, sneaking out quietly.

He assisted Max to get out, holding her hands and feeling her trembling slightly at his touch. As they walked towards the staff parking lot, Max asked him with a knowing smile. "You do this _often_ , don't you?"

"Well, you got me, Max. I hereby bow to your deductive skills." He replied, bowing to her in a playful manner.

"I don't understand why. I thought it's important to you to help your students." She said.

"It _is_ important to me, Max." He made clear and stopped in his tracks and grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you ever watched the movie _Groundhog Day_?"

"Sure, it's a classic." Max replied.

"Then you certainly remember Bill Murray where he was caught in a time loop, repeating the same day over and over again. It's exactly the same with Ms. Chase. She keeps coming to me every day and every day she's asking me the same questions. Can you _even imagine_ how tiresome this sometimes is?" He asked her

Max grinned. "I can imagine. And here I always admired how you have the patience to help Victoria every time."

"Believe me, Max. I always thought I have the patience of a zen monk. But with Victoria my patience is wearing thin many times." Mr. Jefferson said dryly.

Max laughed. "So that's your strategy? Avoiding her?"

He suppressed a tiny chuckle. "Well, not always. I do help her as best as I can since I don't want her to call on Principal Wells to complain about me. And I don't want to go down in Blackwell history as the art teacher who hides from his students. I hope you can keep my little stealth actions a secret."

A cheerful grin appeared on her face. "Well, I can try."

Mr. Jefferson ruffled her hair. "Thank you, Max."

They had arrived at his car now and he opened the door on the passenger's side. "Want to take a ride?"

"In _your car_?" Max asked in a flustered tone, probably wondering why he offered her to come with him.

He smirked, jesting. "I fear your road racer is too small for two people."

"Uh, yes." She smiled nervously, inquiring. "So, where do you want to go?"

"If I would tell you it would only spoil the surprise." He told her teasingly.

She was standing there with a frown on her face for a moment, not entirely sure if she wanted to go or not. But to his surprise she sat down in his passenger's seat, looking up at him expectantly.

"Good call, Max." He said in a pleased tone as he sat down next to her in the driver's seat, smiling at her as he started the engine.

* * *

They had left Arcadia Bay and were already driving for over half an hour now. Max still wondered where they were going and was also baffled at herself that she had actually agreed to come along. Maybe she couldn't turn down this opportunity because she wanted to spend more time with him. He possessed an irresistible appeal which was virtually impossible to resist. It was probably that air of mystery that surrounded her teacher. She often had this feeling that Mr. Jefferson was an enigma, she never knew what was going on in his mind.

"Spacing out again, Max?" She heard him ask in an amused tone.

"Huh? N-No, Mr. Jefferson. I-I was just trying to figure out where we are. I've never been here before, I think." Max blurted out and chose to gaze out of the window, avoiding his searching eyes.

"It's okay, Max. We're almost there." He assured her and left the street, stopping his car at a nearby parking area. They walked down a lone steep track that led to the seashore and Max needed a moment to pause and enjoy the beautiful view here.

"Do you like it?" Mr. Jefferson asked her.

"Wowser, it's awesome, Mr. Jefferson." Max breathed, trailing behind him to get closer to the seawater. The north wind was blowing up her short brown hair as they both sat down on the beach now, their eyes concentrating on the horizon.

This beach was definitely better than the one at Arcadia Bay. Max couldn't detect any weird smells here. No weed or cigarette smell and no one here who used this place as a garbage dump either.

"How did you find this spot?" Max wanted to know.

"I was born and grew up here in Arcadia Bay so I know a few good spots." He explained, his lips forming a knowing smile.

Max only nodded at that, thinking that she had read somewhere in one of his books that he was originally from Arcadia Bay. That could be an explanation why he chose to teach at Blackwell Academy although there are so many better schools in this country which would most likely pay much higher salaries.

Silence settled between them and they both appreciated the view of the sparkling ocean, listening to the endless roar of the waves. The cold sea breeze caused her to shiver since she only wore a t-shirt without a jacket today.

Mr. Jefferson probably sensed that she was cold and quickly took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks, Mr. Jefferson." Max pulled the jacket closer to her, her nose immediately picking up the lingering scent of his fragrance.

His brown eyes were watching her now, a curious expression on his face as he inquired. "Now Max, have you thought about your upcoming assignment to capture my soul?"

"I-I'm working on it. But it's really hard." The young student responded. That assignment was super difficult. Catching her teacher in an unguarded moment seemed like an almost impossible task. Mr. Jefferson was someone who rarely dropped his guard. She honestly didn't have a single clue how to catch him unaware.

Mr. Jefferson stated in his typical firm teacher's voice. "If you're trying to capture the soul of a person, you should be aware that you're also revealing your own soul in the photo, Max. No matter how hard you try to be objective as a photographer, your images will always reflect your own soul. I guess this is what troubles you."

"Which kind of approach would you suggest then?" Max wanted to know, still racking her brain how to go about it.

"I would advise you to follow your heart and gut feeling, trust your instincts as a photographer. And Max," His brown penetrating eyes were staring into her eyes now, his hand covering her own in a reassuring gesture. "I specifically chose this assignment because I want you to step out of your _comfort zone_. Don't be afraid to try out something new."

"O-Okay, I'll think about it." She promised him, her expression becoming thoughtful this time.

"Good, Max. I believe in you. And if you need any inspiration, just look at Richard Avedon's shots. I consider him one of the best portrait photographers who truly captured the souls of his subjects in his photographs."

Max frowned, murmuring. "It's strange you mention Avedon as inspiration."

Mark Jefferson's expression became stern, his voice sounding deeper as he asked. "Why?"

"Because Avedon was known as a photographer who manipulated his subjects and made them feel vulnerable. He preferred to have complete control over his subjects and his critics called him cold, calculating and very unjust. And his subjects described him as _invasive_ during his shots. That reminds me of _you_ somehow, Mr. Jefferson." Max replied.

"So you think...", He began, a strange smile appearing on his lips as he moved his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him.

 _'What the...'_ Max thought, being surprised by his sudden and unexpected movement that she had no time to react.

The young woman felt like she was sitting in that crazy roller coaster again as he tilted her face upward and pressed his lips against her jaw, his beard lightly brushing against her skin, whispering in a deep voice, "my approach is _invasive_ , Max?" His words reverberated against her sensitive skin, giving her chills as she felt his mouth turning into a smirk against her throat.

Max felt goosebumps run across her skin, her cheeks reddening at his touch. However she tried her best to keep her composure and to appear calm as she responded. "Yes, it _is_."

Mr. Jefferson chuckled lightly and pulled away, intently observing her face. "I won't deny that my approach may be invasive, Max. Yet just look at your face. This was exactly the expression I wanted to see. An _authentic_ expression. Sometimes we photographers have to manipulate our subjects to get what we want. And Richard Avedon made no secret of the fact that subjects lend themselves to us artists, ultimately leaving the control in our hands."

"Are you implying that artists can do whatever they want even if it's against the subject's wishes?" Max wanted to know as she looked into his dark eyes, losing herself in them.

His facial expression grew stern for a few seconds but was soon replaced by smug smile, answering. "You prefer street photography, don't you, Max? Then let me ask you this, do you ask your subjects for permission before you take their photos?"

Max swallowed, hating to admit that he had a point. "No. Because..."

He held up a finger to interrupt her and went on. "Because if you would ask them to take a picture, they would start to _act_ , to _pose_ in front of your camera. Am I right?"

"Yes, that's right." She mumbled, realizing now that she was no better than Avedon or Jefferson. Just a few days ago she had taken a shot of a truck driver at a gas station. He had been leaning against the door of his truck with a cup of coffee and a donut in his hands. And as he was going to take a bite, she took the shot in that moment, thinking that this moment perfectly illustrated how the smallest things in life like a lunch break can make us happy. Max knew she would never get this exact same shot if she would've asked for his permission.

"We are not so different, you and I. Every photographer has his or her own approach. There's no right or wrong here, Max." Mr. Jefferson made clear in a matter-of-fact tone, lifting his hand to brush some brown strands of hair out of her face.

 _'He loves it when he's right, doesn't he?'_ Max thought and felt her body overcoming with exhaustion and fatigue again. Her short sleep became noticeable now, her eyes became heavier and she couldn't stop herself from closing them, lying back on the sand with a sigh.

"Max, are you okay?" She heard his concerned voice above her.

"I'm fine, just a little tired, that's all." Max grumbled.

"We can go back if you want." Mr. Jefferson offered.

"Is it okay if I just rest here for a while?" Max asked, hoping he would allow her to relax for a few minutes.

"Ten minutes, Max. Cool?"

"Yeah, cool." She replied with a tired smile.

* * *

Mr. Jefferson stared down at her, his brown eyes admiring her beauty. Her face was so beautiful as if she was a sculpture that had been carved by the hands of a master craftsman. And God, her eyes... Her blue eyes were mesmerizing, shining with a light of a frozen blue star.

 _'Oh Max, I wish you would have been around back in my day.'_ Mr. Jefferson thought, regretting the fact that there was an age gap between them. He would have loved to conquer the art world together with Max at his side.

Without thinking his right hand slipped immediately inside his jeans pocket now, his fingers touching the small syringe which he kept with him for opportunities such as this one.

It would pose no problem to drug her here. No one else was here. No witnesses. They were alone. And although his syringe only contained a light dose it would be more than enough to get her to the dark room. The Prescott barn was only a ten minutes drive away from here and he could apply a higher dose there to keep Max unconscious.

His concentrated gaze focused on the area around her neck now, thinking which spot would be best for his needle. He didn't want to hurt Max and he didn't want her to feel any pain either.

He moved closer to her, all his movements quiet and precise now as he bend over her, paying attention to cast no shadow over her face. Holding the syringe in his hand, he pointed its tip at the nape of her neck. Just as he wanted to slide the needle into her delicate skin, he paused, the needle hovering dangerously over her, just by a fraction of an inch away from her skin.

Mr. Jefferson couldn't do it. This wasn't what he had intended for Max. Yes, it was tempting to have her in the dark room. To shoot her in front of a white backdrop and to experiment with different lighting techniques to get the best results. However, it wouldn't satisfy him. As much as he preferred the unconscious model Max expression was so much stronger when he guided and manipulated her to get the reactions he wanted.

An artist chose what he wanted to paint and in this very moment, he decided to paint Max in a different light than his previous models. Was it a divergence from his art? Or did he actually care so much about her that he thought she didn't deserve this treatment? He couldn't really say. All he knew was that Max was truly special. And she would be his. One way or another.


	7. Chapter 6: A stronger connection

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: First of all thanks to everyone who's reading, favoriting and following this story. And a special thanks goes to Debra Smith and Velial13 for reviewing. It's very much appreciated and really means a lot to me. Regarding the monochrome camera that Max received from Jefferson, it's a Leica M monochrome camera - thanks again to Velial13 for helping me out there :)**  
_

 **Chapter 6: A stronger connection**

It was another early Saturday morning. Time for another one of their usual cleaning sessions in the dark room. The strong chemical smell of various cleaners permeated the room as Nathan Prescott was busy wiping the white tiled floor with a mop while his teacher Mark Jefferson was going around, arranging the studio setup and checking their various photography equipment.

It had become a regular routine for them to perform these tedious duties. On one hand Mark insisted to work in a clean environment. He believed that a competent photographer should always ensure that his models feel comfortable and at ease during a session. Therefore a messy studio or more importantly, a dirty floor was out of the question. On the other hand it was essential to leave no unnecessary evidence behind. That was also a reason why he preferred to wear gloves down here. No one would ever find any fingerprints that would trace back to him.

In the unlikely case that the Arcadia Bay police force should show up one day and discover this bunker, they wouldn't find anything related to Mark Jefferson. His well-thought-out backup plan was designed to put all the blame on Nathan Prescott. He would deliver the young man on a silver platter. Bills, letters, notes and of course the photos. Everything would point at Nathan. It was the poor boy's destiny to take the fall for him.

 _'It's such a pity, really.'_ Mark thought the loss of his partner would be very unfortunate since he had grown quite fond of him but he also realized there was no other way.

Although the chance of discovery was rather low Mark didn't dare take any risks. Which reminded him of another urgent problem. They really had to do something about the bunker door's padlock soon. That was an unnecessary security flaw. The black color of the button's numbers was already fading. Even a blockhead would be able to figure out how to crack their 3 digit number code.

A quick glance at his student reminded him that Nathan hated these cleaning activities with a passion. This lazy rich kid was used to a housekeeping service at his family home and Mark had to listen to his complaints all the time, accusing his teacher of being too meticulous and paranoid. Mark didn't care what Nathan thought. He only cared about what was necessary. Blackwell's art teacher would have never come this far in his life if he would have been careless. That was an important lesson which his young partner had yet to learn.

Nathan was mopping the white floor of the studio area at the back now and pulled a face, whining. "Can't you put on some music? That would make these fucking chores maybe somewhat bearable."

"Music? Why not." Mark smiled at him and turned on the sound system, selecting the title _Crazy like me._ It was one of his favorite songs.

The tones of loud trumpets sounded from the two tower speakers next to the white couch as a male voice started singing.

 _Now I'm a little bit crazy, out of my mind. I'm only slightly strange in the head. It's all a little bit hazy but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna stay screwy instead._

"That _song_? Are you fucking kidding me?" Nathan glared at him.

"I like it. But I can also play some whale songs if that's what you prefer." Mark suggested, winking at him.

"I need my whale songs if I want to relax, dude. Not while I'm cleaning." The boy made clear in an annoyed tone and asked. "How about some Vortex Club music? I have a CD in my jacket."

Mark gave him a disapproving look as he replied. "We've both agreed that we don't play this crap down here. _This_ is our sanctuary to _create art_ , it's _not_ a dance club."

" _What the fuck ever_!" Nathan huffed, hitting the white floor with his mop and acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get his candy.

"Hey, don't be like that, okay? I've promised you we'll review your photos once we're done here. Cool?" Mark asked, hoping that the prospect of discussing Nathan's newly arranged portfolio might calm him down somehow.

"Now that you mention my portfolio, Vic is still pissed off because you didn't review _her_ portfolio yesterday." Nathan told him, giving him a look of reproach as if everything that concerned his best friend Victoria was concerning him as well.

"I'll talk to Victoria, Nate. She'll calm down again eventually." Mark assured him, his voice sounding soft and quiet.

"I'm not so sure about that. One of her chicks saw you walking around campus with that weirdo Caulfield. Vic thinks that hipster wannabe has become your new favorite pet." Nathan said, eyeing his teacher as if he was trying to find out what he was hiding from him.

Mark only looked up for a brief moment and chose to remain silent, carrying one of the heavy crates to the other side of the room.

He sensed this conversation wasn't really about Victoria Chase here. It was all about Nathan. The boy needed his teacher's approval so desperately that the sheer thought of someone else taking his place was making him angry and envious. This childish behavior was nothing new of course and Mark had developed his own ways how to deal with these delicate situations.

Nathan was no complicated puzzle that needed to be solved. No, it was much easier than that. If Mark took a closer look behind the boy's aggressive and fickle behavior, he spotted his insecurity. A deeply ingrained fear to fail and to disappoint his dad Sean Prescott who held the Prescott family name in such a high regard. Needless to say, Nathan would never admit it, purposefully acting like a spoiled brat who didn't give a fuck. But deep down he did. The kid needed appreciation and sympathy like a hopeless man drowning in the sea needed his precious air to breathe. He couldn't live without it. The boy was quite transparent and Mark liked to compare him with a plain image. An image which he could manipulate with ease to his own liking.

Still, Mark knew he had to be careful now. There was no need to add more fuel to the fire.

"Seriously dude, what's with you and that hoe?" Nathan wanted to know, approaching his teacher, crossing his arms over his chest and giving him a questioning look.

"Don't worry. It's nothing, Nate. I consider Max a student with hidden potential. A potential to become... a talented artist. And she needs a teacher to guide her, to show her how to utilize this potential." Mark explained, the room's white lights reflecting in his glasses, shielding his brown eyes from Nathan's stare.

"Yeah, right, and that teacher is _you_. I get it. Vic was right then. You really favor that bitch now, huh?" Nathan spat, the hurt clearly visible on his face.

"Come on, don't be stupid. Max is nothing compared to you. As I've told you many times before, you have a gift and no one can ever replace you. You're _special_ , Nate." Mark made clear, squeezing the boy's shoulder in a caring gesture and detecting a reaction to his touch as a light pink blush colored Nathan's beautiful pale cheeks.

Mark wasn't lying. Nathan was unique in his own way. An artist who understood the significance of light versus shadow and how to incorporate this subtle balance in his art. It was a rare talent that separated him from his other useless classmates.

Moreover Nathan had gained the rare privilege to see the man behind the mask. He was the only one who knew the real Mark Jefferson. The other side of him. A secret persona others would never see.

Mark still contemplated if he would ever reveal his true self to Max someday. It solely depended on her. Would she ever be ready to get a glimpse of his true darkness? A part of him wished that Max would take a look behind the curtain to get to know his other self. Of course she would be scared at first. They all were when realization slowly sank in, replacing disorientation and confusion with fear. However, sharing the truth with her would only deepen their bond and strengthen their connection. As much as he enjoyed thinking about Max, he had to deal with his agitated protégé first.

For now it was important to shift Nathan's attention to more pressing matters. He glanced at the boy, his expression more serious than usual as he suggested. "Instead of worrying about Maxine Caulfield you should rather place your focus on Kate Marsh. _She's_ your _primary_ concern now."

"What about that religious bitch?" Nathan hissed, contempt in his voice.

"I hope you stop causing any more trouble and leave her alone." Mark began, looking at his partner with an emotionless gaze. "It is of utmost importance that Kate accepts your help at the next Vortex Club party. She won't if she suspects and avoids you like the plague. Perhaps you should apologize to her. That might be a good start."

"What? Apologize? _Me_? You can't be serious." Nathan sneered, probably thinking it was a bad joke.

"I'm serious about that, Nate. _Apologize_." Mark demanded in a cold tone, his lips tightening to an expression of obvious displeasure, making it perfectly clear that he wouldn't take a no for an answer.

Nathan glared at him for a few seconds as if he wanted to scream at his mentor, yet to Mark's surprise he exhaled slowly and groaned in an angry voice. "Shit, fuck it, man! I'll _do_ it, okay?"

Mark gave him a satisfied smile, seemingly content that his student conceded. "Good, Nathan. I knew I could count on you."

Nathan was silent now and Mark decided that this was an ideal time for taking a break and putting his student at ease. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, guiding his partner to the white plastic covered couch. They sat down together and his mentor poured him a glass of whiskey, handing his student the small glass with a friendly smile. "It's always better to review great art while enjoying a good drink, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Nathan agreed and took a sip, coughing for a moment as the alcohol felt like burning liquid fire making its way down his throat.

Mark swirled his own glass in his hand, eagerly waiting for his protégé to show him his newest work. Nathan's shaking hands placed a brown leather folder on the small table, giving his teacher a nervous look. It was amusing, really. How this kid's aggression and pride were quickly replaced by anxiety, only eager to seek Mark's undivided attention.

In that regard he wasn't all that different from Max Caulfield. However, it delighted him much more to see Max being so nervous around him. Her shy demeanor combined with her purity and innocence was always a sight to behold.

The art teacher opened the folder and took his time to study Nathan's black and white photos. He recognized slight improvements in Nathan's shots. It was obvious that Nathan had made a lot of progress and followed his mentor's instructions. There were more images with different shooting angles as well as new compositions. An increased detail could be found now too. A picture of a dead rabbit with a clear focus on the dark almost black blood smeared all over his white fur or a closeup of the many wounds of an injured cat. Although these shots possessed their own morbid and dark fascination, they weren't enough in Mark's eyes.

The motif was always the same. Dead or almost dead animals. Birds, deer, rabbits, cats, squirrels, dogs or mice. There was a clear lack of variety here.

Mark sighed and looked up from the photos he held in his hands, his brown eyes meeting Nathan's blue ones. His student was unable to hide his growing insecurity, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap and his right leg bouncing uncontrollably beneath the table as he asked. " _What_? Did I fuck up again?"

"No, au contraire, Nate. These are all good shots. But I miss the variety here. Your subjects are only animals. I'd prefer if you'd choose other motifs. Do you remember this one photo of a scared boy running away from you? It was a great shot which emphasized the motion of your subject." Mark explained with a fatherly smile, watching Nathan's nervousness slowly subside.

Nathan nodded, leaning back against the couch. "I remember that shot."

"I would advise you to search for new motifs to expand your overall theme." Mark told him.

Nathan gave him a questioning look, not really understanding how he should accomplish that. "How?"

Mark leaned slightly forward for a moment, his finger pointing at Nathan's photos. "Your theme is death and agony, Nate. Maybe it'll help you to find new motifs at a different location. A graveyard, for example. What do you think?"

Nathan's blue eyes lit up at his suggestion. "A graveyard, huh? Yeah, that might actually work."

Mark smirked. "Very good. Perhaps you'll also encounter a good opportunity to take a shot for the _Everyday Heroes_ contest there. I'm really looking forward to your entry."

"Oh shit, the fucking contest! I almost forgot about that." Nathan mumbled, letting his head sink and running a trembling hand through his blond disheveled hair.

"You should really enter something. And Nate?" Mark's smooth voice caused Nathan to look back up at him again.

"Yeah?"

A warm smile appeared on his lips as he patted the young man's shoulder in an encouraging manner. "I'm glad you're doing so much better these days."

"My therapist prescribed me some new meds. I dunno but that stuff kinda helps, I guess." Nathan murmured in a shy tone.

"That's good to hear." Mark said and he truly meant it, thinking to himself that a mentally stable partner was more reliable and useful to him than an unstable one. He would wait and see if Nathan would succeed to bring him Kate. Depending on the outcome of their next shooting he would finally decide if Nathan's demise was imminent or not.

* * *

It was finally Saturday and Max was kind of happy to make that trip to Portland today. After all that Blackwell drama and spending too much time together with a certain photography teacher she couldn't wait to leave it all behind her for a while. The day had already started with a typical Victoria Chase message on her room slate, reading ' _Crappy selfie whore_ '.

And Max only wondered what her fucking problem was. ' _Is she jealous or something_?' She asked herself in her thoughts, remembering Victoria's nasty glare when Mr. Jefferson had been talking to Max in class for a moment. She chose to erase the text and drew a cute, little analog camera in a cartoonish style on her white slate instead.

Her day didn't get any better when Max was on her way to the dorm's exit as she encountered Dana and Juliet standing in front of Dana's dorm room. She knew it had been inevitable to meet her and inwardly she was somehow glad that she could finally clear up that misunderstanding.

While Dana said nothing, her friend Juliet was quick to blame Max, saying in a sarcastic tone. "I never knew you were a paparazzi, Max. Have you ever considered to join the Blackwell Totem newspaper as our new photographer? We might need someone as nosy as you."

Max remembered Mr. Jefferson's advice. He had told her that a photographer shouldn't ask for the subject's permission. In his view one should only ask for forgiveness instead. She sighed. "Listen, Juliet. I've told Dana I'm sorry and I really am. I know it was wrong, okay?"

She took out her Leica M monochrome camera and showed them Dana's image which she deleted in front of their eyes, her finger tapping the delete button on the small display screen. "See? I've deleted the photo. And I swear I'll never do it again. I promise."

Juliet didn't look convinced but Dana gave Max a weak smile. "Thank you, Max. I know you're not a bully like Vic and her two minions. And I'm sorry that I treated you like shit. That wasn't fair."

Max nodded, smiling sympathetically in return. "It's okay, Dana. You're probably having a hard time and it was inexcusable what I did that day."

"Yeah, you knew but you did it anyway." Juliet commented dryly, asking now. "Why, Max?"

Max grimaced, averting her eyes and murmuring. "We've learned in our photography class that we should always take the shot. No matter when, no matter where. I kinda did that without using my brain for a moment. It was dumb, I know."

Juliet shook her head, sighing. "That was really dumb, yes. But Dana's right. You're no Victoria. I've also talked to Kate and she said the same."

"How's Kate by the way? I haven't seen her in a while." Max asked.

"She's still quite upset about that Nathan Prescott incident. That rich bastard is a real dick. It's good you tried to help her, Max. I've told Kate that she should stay away from Nathan for the time being. He's acting kinda weird lately." Dana stated.

Max sighed, murmuring. "I guess I should avoid him too. I think he hates me."

"Nathan hates his father, plus he has some serious mental issues. Everyone here knows that. But he can be a really nice guy if he's having a good day." Dana explained, trying to emphasize that Nathan was someone everyone seemed to misunderstand.

Max furrowed her brows. "Then I probably only met him on his bad days, I guess. Anyway, I have to go now. Mr. Science guy's waiting for me."

Dana leaned forward, arching her eyebrows suggestively. "Uh la la, a _date_? Wish you guys _lots of fun_."

"Um, it's not a date, actually. We're just looking for a new car." Max pointed out in a shy voice, not wanting to become Blackwell's newest couple everyone would gossip about here.

Dana grinned. "Oh Max, you're such a cutie-pie. Anyway, say hi to Warren from us, okay?"

Max nodded. "Yeah, and you two have fun too, okay?"

Dana put her arm around Juliet's shoulder and smiled at her. "We two dancing queens always have fun and we're always living la vida loca. Adiós, mi amiga."

* * *

Max had hoped that this day could only get better from now on but she was wrong. Her trip would prove to be a real challenge when she heard her cellphone buzzing in her bag, grabbing it and opening a text message from Warren.

 _-Warren: Hey gurrl, you ready for Portland? I'm already at the bus stop. And Brooke's here 2. Hope u r not mad. She insisted on coming and I couldn't say no. I swear I make it up 2 u.-_

 _'Are you kidding me? Her of all people? Brooke fucking hates me._ ' Max sighed, remembering that talking to the female nerd version of Warren was like walking a tightrope, always worrying that Max might say something that would get on Brooke's nerves. That girl wasn't really known here as a sociable person. Many called her bitter and spiteful and chose to avoid her.

' _Just great. A whole day with Warren and Brooke. Seems like the most awful date ever_.' Max thought as she approached them at the bus stop. While Warren showed a big smile, Brooke had this look of contempt on her face as if Max was her rival or a source of irritation.

"Yo yo, what up, Mad Max?" Warren greeted her, stepping forward and spreading his arms as if he intended to hug her but quickly changed his mind when he noticed Brooke's sour stare.

"Hey Warren. I didn't know Brooke's coming too. That's a... nice surprise." Max said, hoping she wouldn't feel like a fifth wheel during their trip.

"Yes, big surprise, right? I'm sure we'll have fun together." Warren assured her, looking a little nervous with two girls standing so close to him.

Brooke tucked her tablet away in her backpack and gave her a slight nod, accusing her. "You're _late_ , Max."

"I've met Dana and Juliet and we had a little chat." Max stated truthfully, thinking that it didn't matter what she said, Brooke would always give her that look.

"Ladies, ladies, it's okay, right? I mean Max is here and we're ready to go to Mordor, eh, Portland." Warren motioned to the bus and they followed after him.

At first it seemed that Warren wanted to have a seat next to Max but he decided against that as Brooke moved next to her friend, glaring at him. Max chose to ignore the whole awkward scene and sat wordlessly behind them, sighing. More Blackwell drama. As if she didn't have enough of it.

Warren tried his best to start a conversation between them. "So, Brooke, did you know? Max also watches anime. We should ask her to join our anime club."

Brooke raised her eyebrows, lifting her hand so that her index finger would push against the bridge of her glasses to ease them up against her small nose. "Really? Any particular studio you like?"

"I'd say I favor Studio Ghibli. Hayao Miyazaki is a god and I so love Princess Mononoke." Max replied.

"She has taste, Warren." Brooke admitted begrudgingly and gave her a skeptical look as if she wanted to test her knowledge. "So, what do you like about that movie?"

"Everything. The story, the characters, the art design. I like how the movie explores Miyazaki's love of nature and that it tries to convey the message that nature should remain pure and untainted by man. The highlight is of course the soundtrack. Joe Hisaishi created a masterpiece here. He's also one of my favorite composers." Max told her, unable to hide her apparent appreciation.

"Hisaishi's quite alright. But Yuki Kajiura would be my favorite composer." Brooke stated bluntly.

Max agreed. "Oh yeah, she's great too. _Canta per me_ is frickin' awesome."

"That wouldn't be my first choice since it's one of her most well known songs but it isn't that bad. I prefer _the World_. The intro, the vocals, the instrumentation, the emotion, the impact. All of it, pure perfection. And the Live version took it to another level but that's no surprise. Kajiura is a flat-out genius at her live concerts." Brooke explained, turning her head to glance at Warren. "I guess she can join our club. If she wants to."

"Sweet. What do you say, Max? Wanna join us?" Warren asked in an enthusiastic tone, obviously hoping that she'd say yes. But she also glimpsed Brooke's jealous expression. It was fairly obvious that she didn't seem all that happy to recruit her as a new member of their club.

 _'I'd rather join Justin and his skater boys.'_ Max thought and tried to evade their offer. "I'm currently busy with photography class and trying to catch up with school stuff. Maybe another time when I don't have a lot on my plate."

Warren sighed, seemingly disappointed. "What a bummer. Our club really needs some new members."

"How many are you? Max asked.

"It's just Brooke and me at the moment." Warren replied, his disappointment apparent in his voice, rubbing the back of his head.

Brooke gave Max a narrow glare. "I prefer _quality_ over quantity. And why do _you_ care how many we are?"

"I don't. I was just curious, that's all." Max responded, somehow feeling that Brooke interpreted anything she said in a provoking way although she never meant it like that.

The overall mood didn't get any better as they visited several second-hand vehicle dealers in Portland. Max stood behind the nerd couple, watching them argue over an old yellow Hyundai while the car salesman grinned like an idiot. The man probably thought to himself that he had to deal with a bunch of dumb kids who only wasted his time.

A blue car was Warren's number one choice, reminding everyone several times that blue was his favorite color and that every other color sucked in his eyes. Brooke on the other hand didn't care about the car's color. She was pragmatic and thought it was more important to mind the costs. Her main concerns were always that the car should have a small engine, to choose a petrol car instead of a diesel, to check the CO2 emissions and to make sure that it was a small car to have cheaper insurance costs.

Max couldn't help but agree with Brooke yet she also understood Warren's wish to have a blue car. For some people color was even more significant than the car brand or the car's features. In the end she decided it was best to stay out of their discussions. Brooke was already irritated enough and Max had been the one to step between them every now and then to calm them both down if their discussions turned into a heated debate again.

In the end they didn't find the right car and they all were so tired and hungry after walking around here all the time that they just entered the nearest Denny's to get a meal. To her surprise Warren showed them entrance cards for the Guardino Gallery. It was an art gallery that featured the work of local artists. Warren told her that he felt bad not telling her about Brooke coming today and wanted to compensate for it somehow.

"Wowser, that's neat. The gallery website says that the exhibition shows the paintings of the local artist Alessandro Neri. That sounds interesting. Thank you so much, Warren." Max thanked him and Warren blushed in return, smiling shyly while Brooke crossed her arms and frowned.

"I hope it's not boring there. And if it is I hope you don't mind me if i'll just sit down and play Donkey Kong somewhere. I still have to beat my own highscore." Brooke grumbled.

"Sure, Brooke. Do whatever you want." Warren was quick to say, already glancing at Max as if he was suggesting that they could finally spend some time together without the other scientist geek.

* * *

The Guardino Gallery was a welcome change to Max. Cars didn't interest her that much but art was always something she could admire, wondering what intention and message an artist was trying to convey to his audience. It was as if she had stepped into a world full of color and different shapes.

While Max was awed, Brooke was completely unimpressed. She sighed and took a seat near the entrance to play her game. Warren stayed at her side and they both walked through the white halls, gazing at the colorful bright paintings. It was obvious that Warren wasn't as fascinated as Max was but he seemed to be content just watching her enjoying herself.

This artist's abstract artwork was such a strong contrast to Mark Jefferson's black and white photography that Max couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Jefferson might like these paintings.

' _Probably not_.' Max thought, smiling to herself.

It was strange that her mind kept wandering back to Mr. Jefferson. As if he was always with her, always being a part of her thoughts.

They went around another corner and Max stopped, her body frozen on the spot and her eyes wide, holding her breath as she saw her photography teacher right in front of her. Mr. Jefferson was looking at a painting with his scrutinizing eyes, listening attentively to a tall man talking right next to him in a loud voice.

Max had this sudden feeling that the whole universe was against her. That it didn't matter where she went, she couldn't escape him. As if an unknown force brought them together. Again and again.

The young woman hoped she could turn around quietly before he would notice her presence but it was too late. Warren recognized their teacher and waved a hand at him, calling his name. "Look, Max. Mr. Jefferson's here. Mr. Jefferson! Hello! Mr. Jefferson!"

' _Great, Warren_.' She thought.

Why wasn't there a secret door in this damn gallery where she could enter and hide herself? Max felt her nervousness rise in an instant as her teacher turned his head towards their direction, searching for the person who called his name.

His brown eyes were shining behind his glasses as they made contact with Max's blue ones. An amused smile played on his lips as he approached them. "Blackwell's most gifted students. What a pleasant surprise to meet you two here."

Although he addressed both of them, Max felt his gaze solely fixed on her, as if everyone around them was gone and she was the only one in this room worthy to receive his attention.

She stammered. "Hey M-Mr. Jefferson. I didn't know you're here too."

"My friend Alessandro invited me. I'm not a fan of his work but I would never turn down a friend's invitation." Mr. Jefferson explained, glancing at her friend Warren for a few seconds before returning his gaze to her.

"I'm not a fan of your work either, gretto. What is art without colore, Mark? It's triste e sinistro." The tall man had joined them, glaring at his friend who shrugged in return.

"You can't grasp the beauty of Chiaroscuro, Alessandro. My student Max here on the other hand can perceive it." Mr. Jefferson's hand pointed at her and she felt her heart beating faster when she detected a hint of pride in his voice.

The artist named Alessandro looked like an older version of the actor Antonio Banderas. His long black hair had been tied to a ponytail, showing a few strands of silver gray hair here and there. The tall man eyed her with a curious expression on his face, talking with a heavy italian accent. "Tsk, tsk. Now I see why Mark chose to become a professore. So that he can be surrounded by beautiful young ladies all the time. Eh?"

Max blushed while Mark Jefferson cleared his throat, commenting. "He's a funny one, isn't he?"

Mr. Neri smiled and offered Warren and her his hand. "How rude of me not to introduce myself. I'm Alessandro Neri and..." he gestured to the many paintings displayed on the walls, "this is my art. Do you like abstract art, Max?"

"I like it a lot, Mr. Neri . I think your work is very poetical and imaginative. It's very reminiscent of Wassily Kandinsky's style. And the different colors seem to reflect feelings and ideas." Max replied.

"Sei un mito! Finally someone who understands my work. Unlike this philistine here." Mr. Neri exclaimed loudly, patting Mr. Jefferson on the back.

Mr. Jefferson grimaced in return. "Abstract art evades definition and artistic classification, my friend. You either love it, or you hate it."

"Volevo ben dire! I knew you would say that. Signora, has your teacher ever offered you to model for him?" Mr. Neri wanted to know, his black eyes staring at her.

Max's cheeks turned red, stammering. "It-It had only been a short session to test his new camera."

Mr. Neri snorted. "Ha, I knew it! I would advise you to avoid this man. He's essere un lupo vestito da pecora."

"Come on, Alessandro. Not this story again." Mr. Jefferson sighed, shaking his head.

Max and Warren exchanged quizzical looks, they didn't understand what they were talking about. "Um, could you please talk in english?" She asked.

Mr. Jefferson explained. "He said I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing. It's always the same. Don't you get tired of telling this story to everyone, Alessandro? And I don't understand why you're always complaining like that. Your wife _loved_ my wedding gift."

His friend lifted his finger, poking his friend's chest accusingly. "That's because you _seduced_ my bella Elea with your charm."

Mark Jefferson threw his hands up in surrender, irritation in his voice as he said. "Don't be silly! I didn't do anything."

The older man shook his head. "You offered a professional photo session and it turned to a sensual art photography session. Imagine my surprise when I came home, seeing you kneel in front of our couch with your camera and taking shots of my naked wife."

"It was Elea's idea, not mine. Well, she was a little nervous and maybe we drank too much Ramazotti that day. You can blame the alcohol if you want. Anyway, you can't deny that these shots turned out great. Your wife was the best female nude model I ever had the honor to work with in my entire career. I remember this session so vividly as it had just been yesterday. Your Elea lying on the leather couch, the shadows traveling over her collarbone, over her entire body, flattering her female curves and her natural pose."

Mr. Jefferson's brown eyes took on a distant look, a clear fascination on his face as he went on. "It was breathtaking how the light caught her in a pretty way, skimming across her tanned skin and adding a little definition in her stomach. Such natural beauty, Alessandro. I truly envy you, my friend."

Mr. Neri gave him a strange look and grumbled. "I have to admit, Elea loved your work. You made her really happy."

A smug smile appeared on Mr. Jefferson's lips. "Of course she _loves_ my work. Everyone does. I've captured natural beauty forever immortalized in a photograph. If she ever desires another session, please tell her that I'd be more than happy to satisfy her wishes."

The italian artist furrowed his brows, shaking his head, declining in a firm tone. "No more sessions for you, amico mio."

The art teacher narrowed his eyes in disappointment. "Ah well, it's such a shame. I still enjoy to look at those beautiful shots from time to time. Maybe you change your mind someday." He eyed his friend now, one corner of his mouth curled upwards to a smirk. "And please give my regards to Elea. Tell her I would have loved to meet her here."

"I don't trust a charmer like you and I'm relieved she stayed at home." Mr. Neri stated in a dry tone.

Warren stared at them with wide eyes, murmuring. "Man, being a photographer must be a fun job. Now I almost regret my decision to study science instead of art."

Mr. Neri turned to Warren, asking in an amazed tone. "You're a _scientist_?"

"Yeah. Sort of." Warren replied, rubbing his hair in a sheepish manner.

"Sia ringraziato Dio! You're just what I was looking for. Senti! I've bought this expensive robotic vacuum cleaner and it isn't working anymore. Can you please have a look?"

"Sure. But I'm not a robot expert. So no promises that I can fix it, okay?" Warren made clear but Mr. Neri didn't seem to hear him and dragged him along. Max watched them leave with a lump in her throat, realizing that she was now alone with her teacher.

Mr. Jefferson smiled at her. "You should have told me you're here in Portland. I could have helped you to get free admission."

"We didn't exactly plan on visiting this gallery." Max told him, feeling a little nervous again to stand so close to him. And that talk about Mr. Neri's wife and her private session with Mr. Jefferson only added to her nervousness. Her mind had already conjured an image of herself having such an intimate session with her teacher, wondering how it would be like. But she also knew she'd never have the courage to do something like that. That would never happen and was out of the question.

"Alessandro's art is... quite unique in its own way. I'm sure he was really glad that you appreciate his paintings." Mr. Jefferson told her.

"They say that abstract art inspires our curiosity about the reaches of our imagination. I think it's also a great inspirational source for us photographers to get a new perspective. Is your friend also a photographer?" Max asked.

Her teacher nodded at that, answering. "Yes, he _was_ a photographer. We worked a lot together when I was hired by an agency in Milano. Italy was and still is at the center of the fashion industry. So if you should ever want to work in this business I'd recommend Europe as a starting point of your career. But to be honest with you, the fashion industry can be a very hard place and it might disappoint or even frustrate you. Nevertheless it's a good start to make a name for yourself."

Max sighed. "I don't think I'll ever work in that business. It's just not me. I guess Victoria pursues a career as fashion photographer."

"And which career do _you_ pursue, Max?" He inquired.

"Honestly, I haven't really thought about that. I'm still trying to find my own style and I don't really know the direction I want to go to with my photography." Max replied, feeling her own frustration and being aware that she should really think more about her own future.

"It's alright, Max. There's no need to put yourself under pressure like that. There's still plenty of time and please remember, I'm always offering my help if you feel the need to discuss your future in photography. Cool?" He suggested in his soft voice, letting all her worries that were clouding her mind melt away.

She gave him a thankful smile. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Jefferson."

"Now that you mention photography, have you thought about your upcoming assignment? Any ideas?" Mr. Jefferson asked her and Max felt this intensity in his brown eyes again. An intense gaze that buried its way deep inside of her, seeing right through her.

Max met his expectant stare, unable to avert her eyes as she replied. "Actually, yes. I have an idea."

His eyebrows raised up, surprise in his voice. "Oh, really?"

' _I should do this session as soon as possible. It's better to get it over and done with instead of procrastinating this damn assignment_. _You can do it, Super Max_.' Max thought.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to hide her nervousness and not getting cold feet at the last moment. "Would it be possible to do our session tomorrow?"

Tomorrow was a Sunday and Max hoped he'd have time and say yes. Mr. Jefferson tilted his head in contemplation and finally nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow should be fine. Where and when?"

"Arcadia Bay's forest north parking lot at 4 pm." Max informed him.

He gave her a puzzled look first, but it was soon replaced by a knowing smile, admiration audible in his tone as he realized what his student was planning. "The forest as shooting location. That's an interesting choice. And I see you have also taken the low-angle light of the golden hour into consideration. I'm impressed and I can't wait to see you framing me, Max."

"I also wanted to ask you if you could bring your Pentax camera and your tripod tomorrow. I'll need these for the session." Max asked.

"Of course. So you intend to shoot me in _color_?" He inquired.

"You've said it yourself. My photos will always reflect my own soul and I will not try to hide it. _My_ session, _my_ rules. Right?" Max smiled, being surprised at herself that she sounded so calm and sure of herself. Maybe her lessons with her photography teacher were also helping her to gain more confidence, aiding her to believe in her own capabilities.

Mr. Jefferson chuckled, amusement coloring his tone. "You're thinking like a real photographer and I can see you're eager to capture my soul."

He suddenly leaned forward, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear, setting her hair on edge as he whispered in a smooth voice. "I'm sure this will be an _intriguing_ experience for both of us, Max."

She could feel his warm breath so close to her skin, causing her whole body to flinch, her breath catching in her throat as she tried her best to ignore the rapid drumming of her heart. Before she could react or say anything he withdrew and she couldn't help but stare at him, seeing his lips curve into a smile.

Max couldn't look away and almost didn't notice that Warren and Mr. Neri have returned. Brooke had fixed the robot and Warren urged Max that they had to go now, telling her that Brooke seemed to be in a bad mood. They said good-bye and Max felt Mr. Jefferson's gaze upon her as they left, thinking again just what it was that he saw in her. And having this gut feeling that their upcoming session might give her some answers.

* * *

The Arcadia Bay forest was a unique challenge for any photographer. The hardest part was searching for a composition that captured the quiet beauty of this place. Max had already scouted the area in advance, reading different information brochures and skimming through several hiking trail websites. Through her research she had found a clearing as the perfect shooting location.

Mr. Jefferson and her made their path through the woods, the sounds of chirping birds and the whistling wind accompanied them, creating a peaceful and relaxing atmosphere. Her nose picked up the different scents of damp earth, wood and fallen leaves. Max thought it was beautiful here. The tree's leaves showed their colorful autumn foliage. A mix of green, red, yellow and orange hues. She had trusted her instincts and thought the forest was a fitting choice. A place that held so much mystery and intrigue, captivating the human imagination for centuries. It was enigmatic, sinister and fascinating at the same time. Just like the man she wanted to capture.

As Max had asked him to shoot at this location she had feared that Mr. Jefferson might object, knowing full well that he preferred to shoot at a photo studio. He was a photographer who wanted to be in control of every single aspect and a studio environment satisfied his needs. There were no worries about weather or bad lighting and he could set his entire focus on his subjects.

However, this wasn't Max's style. She favored natural lighting and liked to shoot outside. She was aware that her photography was different from her teacher's photography and she didn't want to hide this fact in their session. Just as he had captured her in his vision, she would capture him in hers.

Would she be able to see what he was concealing beneath the surface? Would he show her what was lurking behind the shadows? Max couldn't wait to find out. Although the thought alone to be the photographer in this session made her giddy.

They had almost reached the clearing when all of a sudden something dark and big flew close over their heads. Max didn't see it coming and was so startled that she jumped in surprise, her hand instinctively reaching for Mr. Jefferson's suit jacket sleeve.

Mr. Jefferson let out a soft chuckle as he saw Max clinging to his arm. "Easy, Max. It was just an owl. Nothing to be scared of."

' _Seriously,_ _I almost had a heart attack here_.' Max thought, breathing. "Whoa, what's up with Doctor Hoo? He really spooked me."

Mr. Jefferson looked up at the trees, his brown eyes spotting the owl sitting on a branch. "I think an owl is a fascinating creature. It symbolizes wisdom and change. But also the ability to look beyond the ordinary. It reminds me of our work as photographers. We take inspiration from the things most people cannot see or grasp." He explained in a thoughtful tone.

"Like a photographer who considers every tiny little detail to capture a great shot?" Max asked him.

"Exactly." Mr. Jefferson nodded at her and paused now, his eyes observing their surroundings. They had arrived at their destination. The small clearing left enough space that the subject wouldn't get lost between all those trees. And the brightly colored leaves of yellow and red immersed the whole scenery into a fiery sea of red.

Another highlight was the golden-hour light. It would give her image a more vibrant look, injecting the warmth of oranges and reds and showing a clear contrast to the dark almost black tree trunks.

Mr. Jefferson placed the tripod on the ground now, giving her an approving smile. "This is a wonderful location, Max. Majestic, vast and mysterious."

"T-thanks, Mr. Jefferson. I was worried you wouldn't like this place." Max muttered, rubbing the back of her head in a shy manner.

He sighed. "I may sound like an old man who always repeats himself but really Max, have more confidence in yourself. You're doing a good job here."

How was he always able to melt her anxiety into nothingness? Max could only nod in return, trying to pay attention to the Pentax camera now. Her fingers moved deftly over the small display screen, adjusting the settings for the upcoming session. She gestured to Mr. Jefferson to move to a designated spot where the trees blocked most of the incoming sunlight, leaving behind beams to track across the ground and through the branches.

After positioning the tripod and adjusting the right angle, she inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm her nerves.

When Max thought she was somewhat ready to do this, she approached her teacher. Her idea was to mirror his approach, to repeat what he had done in his session. She wouldn't do it exactly the same way, yet it would be similar somehow.

Max took a step towards him, watching him being his calm and usual self. "I had thought a lot about what you said."

She stared into his calm face, continuing. "That you see a connection between us."

"Do you _see_ it too?" Mr. Jefferson wanted to know, tilting his head slightly.

Max seemed to contemplate it for a moment, and nodded. "I think there's _something_. But I don't know what it is yet. It's as if a thread of fate binds us together. I only came back to Arcadia Bay to study at Blackwell and to attend your photography program. You're one of my heroes and I admire your work. And you gave me this chance to have these private lessons. It all still feels so surreal to me and it's more than I could have ever hoped for."

A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he stated. "I don't believe in fate. I only believe in what I see. Being a teacher at Blackwell is my opportunity to share my vision with others and to inspire my students. But I also have this goal in my mind to find a _future talent_. To find _someone special_... _someone_ like _you_ , Max."

Max was so close to him that she could actually smell his cologne now, her eyes drawn to his, feeling overly hot and uncomfortable at the power of his gaze. His facial expression was so serious. There was such a strong tension between them, it was almost overwhelming her. She felt like they were dancing very close to the edge of a cliff. One wrong step and she would fall down into the darkness and succumb to her emotions.

She moved her right hand up to his face hesitantly and slowly, cupping his cheek. Max flushed as she felt the warmth of his skin and his tickling beard underneath her touch. To her surprise Mr. Jefferson's fingers moved gently over her hand in return, his hand covering hers, firmly pressing it against his own cheek.

They stared deeply at each other in silence. Her brilliant blue eyes met the dark depths of his eyes. A part of her longed for the releasing sound of the shutter to lessen this maddening tension now. However, the other part of her, the more irrational part, wished that she could stay in this moment forever.

A clicking sound broke the silence as the shutter went off but they were both so concentrated on one another that they didn't seem to hear it. Mr. Jefferson removed her hand from his cheek and pushed the palm of his hand against hers, whispering in a soft voice. "Do you _see_? We _share_ a connection, Max."

"Yes." Max breathed, her blue eyes staring up at him, watching the long shadows of the trees and the light rays of the golden sunlight move over his face and entire body. An ominous contrast of dark and light.

Her teacher interlaced their hands and pulled her closer to him. "Did you know?" Mr. Jefferson asked her as he leaned forward slightly, his warm breath caressing her skin as he whispered against her ear. "Some say Diane Arbus became intimate with her subjects to... _deepen_ their connection. And this approach supposedly helped her to achieve even greater emotional shots."

"Well, she was an artist who was known to push the boundaries." Max murmured, trying her best to stay calm and think straight while Mr. Jefferson was standing so close to her.

' _Pushing the boundaries is putting it mildly. Arbus was known for her provocative imagery and she was criticized for objectifying her subjects. Her images possess a kind of darkness, just like Mr. Jefferson's shots_.' Max thought.

He turned his head and their eyes locked again. Max was immersed in that almost black ocean of his eyes as she heard him say. "An artist's creativity should know no limits. Arbus had a brilliant eye but I think she could have taken another approach."

" _Another approach_?" Max echoed in a nervous tone as she felt his fingers glide down her back, leaving a trail of lit-up nerve endings on their way.

"Let me _show_ you, Max." With that he leaned forward again, his hand sneaking around her back to hold her firmly in place while his lips pressed carefully on her neck.

A breathless whimper escaped her mouth, feeling her heart rate pick up pace as Mr. Jefferson's lips began to travel downwards to her collarbone, placing explorative kisses along the line of her neck.

Max felt confused at her own body's reaction, becoming aware that she was craving his touch. The more he touched her, the more sensitive her skin was becoming.

Mr. Jefferson paused in his motion, his brown eyes moving down along her face until they came to rest upon her lips. Max heard the loud pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, feeling it melt into a throbbing mess.

' _Oh my gosh, is he going to..._?' Max wondered and stammered. "M-Mr. Jef-" but he gently placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.

She found herself staring at her teacher, seeing his mouth curve to a smile, asking her in his soft voice. "Please, Max. Call me Mark."

"M-Mark." Max muttered in an unsure voice, saying his first name sounded so strange and odd in her ears.

His lips were so close to her own now that she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her face, causing her whole body to feel hot and tingly at the same time. As he bowed down she could sense the electricity hanging in the air, that nervous anticipation, the realization sinking in that he was about to kiss her.

Mr. Jefferson placed both of his hands upon her cheeks, his brown eyes staring intensely at her for a moment as if his dark eyes were a camera, trying to capture this very moment in his mind's eye.

Max felt her heart literally stop beating as his lips descended upon hers, kissing her very softly and slowly. Mouth pressed against mouth and she yielded to his kiss, closing her eyes, feeling herself becoming light and weightless. It was her first time experiencing a kiss like this. She knew this was wrong yet why did it feel so good?

 _'Wowser, what's happening to me? This is so crazy_.' Max thought.

Nothing in this world seemed to matter anymore, nothing else existed except these soft lips which were brushing against her own, accompanied by a faint tickling sensation as his beard scratched lightly against the sensitive skin around her mouth.

Max warily opened her eyelids and stared instantly into the unbounded darkness of her teacher's eyes. Just as the warmth was spreading through her body and she started to become dizzy, he released her and withdrew, thus breaking the momentary spell that she had been under.

Without thinking she lifted her hand automatically to touch her own lips, her brain struggling to process what she had just experienced. It all felt so unreal to her, as if she had awakened from a strange dream.

There was a glint in his brown eyes as he told her. "I couldn't resist the urge to kiss you, Max. You've captivated me and this moment felt right to me to cross the boundaries to create... beautiful art."

' _Another artistic approach to get what he wants, huh?_ _I know I shouldn't have let this happen but I wanted it. I couldn't resist._ ' She thought, knowing full well that she had given in to her emotions, throwing all rational thoughts out of the window.

"Mr., Jef-, um, Mark. I still don't understand." She murmured, still feeling confused, her mind being a total mess.

"Look at your shots, Max. You _will see_ , you _will understand_." Mark assured her, beckoning her to take the Pentax camera.

Max fumbled with the small viewfinder screen and selected the images while her photography teacher stood close by her side, patiently watching her how she would perceive their photos.

Max's eyes widened in surprise when she studied the images. Her camera had caught everything. The instant she had cupped his cheek. The intensity of the moment when they had stared into each other's eyes. It immediately raised goosebumps all over her skin just by looking at this picture.

The last shot was their kiss. It felt like the climax of her whole session. As her eyes observed everything closely, she knew what Mark Jefferson had been hinting at. Compared to his last session she wasn't such a bundle of conflicting emotions anymore. What she saw here was acceptance. Max had left the control in his hands, had let him dominate her session. The kiss was a symbol of her surrender, succumbing to her feelings as she allowed him to drown her in his darkness. The scenery even reinforced her interpretation, both engulfed by shadows as he had kissed her. The vibrant red color of the autumn leaves gave her pictures an additional dramatic effect. It looked like they were both standing on a ground of yellow and red fire.

"What do you _see_ , Max?" Mark asked her, his voice sounding deep in her ears.

"Acceptance." The young woman whispered, turning to him. "I was supposed to capture your soul in this session. Yet, why does it feel like I'm the one who gave up a piece of my soul in this shot?"

"Max, I truly think you fulfilled your assignment in your own way and I also think that you've captured my essence here. As I told you before, we photographers reveal ourselves in our shots the same way we reveal our subjects. Richard Avedon once asked that _if each photograph steals a bit of the soul, isn't it possible that he gives up pieces of his soul every time he takes a picture_?" He noted in a thoughtful tone and took the Pentax camera in his hands now, his intent eyes admiring her shots.

Max followed his gaze, seeing that she had managed to bring out the darkness in him. Sinister shadows were crawling over his body, as if the dark was consuming the light. She, on the other hand was once again a strong contrast to him, her body soaking in the warm tones of the sinking sun.

"What do you see in those shots?" She asked him and he looked up from the small display screen, his dark eyes making contact with hers. His voice was merely a soft whisper. "I see an understanding between us, a _deeper_ connection. And I'll be waiting for you, Max. Waiting till you _see_ it too."


	8. Chapter 7: Innocence and corruption

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **Chapter 7: Between innocence and corruption**

 _ **A/N: First of all sorry for the late chapter update to all readers. I've been on vacation in Spain and didn't have much time to write. As always, thanks to everyone who is reading, favoriting and following this story. A special thank you goes to Velial13, ambernass25 and the guest reviewer. I'm always happy to receive feedback, it makes my day and it really means a lot to me. Thank you. :)**_

* * *

A new week at Blackwell Academy had begun. Max was walking through the large, crowded hallway, lost completely in her own thoughts. Her destination was the art classroom. There was this feeling of fatigue again, as if her energies had been depleted after yesterday's eventful photo session at the forest clearing.

A burning question was nagging at her mind. How should she behave and react around her teacher now? It would be a rather pointless endeavor to avoid him here. They met each other almost every day in class or saw one another around campus.

Her best option would be trying to act as normal as possible in his presence. Max guessed Mark would most probably do the same. He'd never start treating her differently or favor her in his lessons. Her art teacher always showed this calm composure and coolness which she greatly admired. The young woman regarded him as a role model. Not only as a photographer, but also as a person. Her life would be so much easier if she could be like him, if she could somehow lessen her anxiety and stay relaxed.

But keeping calm wouldn't be easy. Their shared kiss still lingered in her mind. It wasn't a dream or her imagination playing tricks on her. This kiss had been real. The memory, the sensation, everything she had felt in that one particular moment was reality.

If someone would ask her to describe this instant, Max would reply it felt like flying above the clouds. A feeling of zero gravity, forgetting the whole world around her except the feel of his soft lips brushing against her own.

Did Mark know what he was doing to her? Was he aware of her crush on him? And if he knew, would that mean he had kissed her with an intention behind it? Did her teacher actually respond to her feelings? Was it even possible that he felt the same way about her?

Or was his kiss truly just another artistic approach to achieve powerful visual imagery by strengthening their emotional connection? Mark had mentioned Diane Arbus as his source of inspiration. Some art historians claimed that Arbus had even slept with some of her subjects to get closer to them and to realize more intimate sessions. However, these claims seemed more like rumors and were never really confirmed. It all remained a mystery up to this day.

Her head was spinning as all her thoughts whirled around her mind. Focus. She really needed focus. To only focus on what he had assured her. Mark had affirmed his belief once again that he saw a connection between them. A special bond which brought two artists together. Two like-minded people who shared their love and passion for photography.

Max still had a tiny bit of hope though, wanting to believe there was something more to it all while she also worried about reading too much between the lines and getting her hopes up too soon. Despite being aware that her infatuation with him was wrong and that it would only cause problems for both of them, she was unable to stop herself from feeling this way.

She rubbed her forehead with a tired hand, warning herself. ' _Pull yourself together, Max! Don't be a lovestruck fool. You'll only embarrass Mr. Jeffer-, Mark. And the others would surely take notice and think something's not right_.'

This was also entirely new to her. Calling him by his first name. It felt so strange and unfamiliar after respectfully addressing him as Mr. Jefferson all the time. Hopefully she wouldn't be dumb enough to utter his first name in the middle of the lecture. Such a stupid mistake would only raise unwanted questions and Victoria Chase would get one more good reason to hate and bully her.

When Max entered the classroom with a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach, she took a quick side glance at the front desk, detecting her art teacher's absence and a feel of relief washing over her. After taking out her notebook, pencil case and analog camera, she shifted on her seat. Her blue eyes found her friend Kate Marsh. She sat at her usual spot close to the windows.

Bright sunlight illuminated Kate's entire body and she seemed to be in a better mood today, compared to the last time she saw her.

"Hey Kate. I haven't seen you at the dorm lately. Are you okay?" Max asked in a low, concerned tone, making sure the other students wouldn't eavesdrop on their conversation. Students like Hayden and Taylor were known members of the Vortex Club and openly supported Nathan Prescott of course. It would be a bad idea to talk about the rich Prescott kid right under their noses.

Kate turned around and gave her a faint smile, speaking very quietly. "I'm fine, Max. How about you? It's all my fault that Nathan hurt you the other day. I'm thankful to you for helping me, really. But I think you shouldn't have done that. No one should get in trouble because of me."

"I'm okay, Kate. Please don't even think that it's your fault. In fact it's no one's fault at all. The only one who should feel sorry and ashamed about this whole incident is Nathan Prescott. Not us." Max made clear, not wanting Kate to feel guilty about what had happened that day. Maybe this was also the cause why Kate had been so withdrawn lately.

"Thank you, Max. Everyone kept telling me that I'm somehow responsible, you know. So I began to question myself. Even Principal Wells contacted my parents and indicated I accused Nathan wrongfully. My parents have always been upset about me attending Blackwell in the first place, always telling me I should reconsider my decision. So all of this only reinforced their opinion and now they urge me to transfer to a catholic school." The blond girl explained, a hint of sadness in her fragile voice.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know your parents were so strict. That must be all very hard for you. I was already wondering why you didn't reply to my text messages. I've been kinda worried you're angry with me." Max said, finally realizing what Kate must have been through in these past few days.

"Sorry, Max. I shouldn't have shut myself off like that. Dana and Alyssa were also trying to cheer me up but I just ignored everyone. If something like this happens to me, not only my parents know about it, no, my whole family finds out about it. And then they all start calling me, write me letters and e-mails. I know they mean well but sometimes it's just all too much for me and it's hard to get some rest." Kate stated.

"I can imagine, Kate. Hearing about your parents makes me glad that my parents support and help me as much as they can. Although they also often complain that I should switch to a digital camera soon because analog camera stuff has become so expensive nowadays." Max told her with a smile, rubbing the back of her neck in a sheepish manner.

Kate smiled in return, her eyes full of warmth. "They sound like kind people. You must be glad to have such nice parents."

"Oh, believe me, I am. And I think you have a wonderful family too, Kate. I'm sure they all care a lot about you and they're only worried about your wellbeing." Max reassured her, thinking that Kate's family only wanted to protect her.

Kate nodded at that and sighed. "Yes, I know they're worried. Though I sometimes wish they wouldn't overwhelm me with all their worries."

"Well, our families often seem to forget we're grown-up now. I know how annoying this is." Max murmured, relating to Kate's feelings and knowing that her own parents weren't any different.

Kate thanked her. "It feels good to have you here. To have someone to talk to."

"Anytime, Kate. That's what friends are for, right?" Max assured her, hoping that Kate would seek help if such an event would ever happen again. It was always better to have friends to confide in instead of dealing with all these problems on your own.

"You're so nice, Max. I thank god to have such good friends here at Blackwell and we should definitely have a cup of tea together soon." Kate suggested and Max nodded at that, her attention shifting back to the front of the classroom as her ears suddenly picked up Mark Jefferson's voice.

"I'm impressed, Victoria. You're actually the first student who submitted a photo for the ' _Everyday Heroes'_ contest. And I must say it's a stunning shot. I can only hope the rest of the class will follow your lead." Mr. Jefferson told the short-haired blond girl as they approached his desk, both walking side by side.

Max spotted a white envelope in his hand. It probably contained Victoria's entry. She was curious and would have loved to take a peek but she also knew it was strictly forbidden. Only her teacher was allowed to see all entries since he was the one who would pick the contest's winner.

Victoria had her hands on her hips and made a snide comment. "Oh, please, Mr. Jefferson. You don't need to wait for the other entries to decide who's best here. It's just a waste of your time. You _saw_ my shot, you already _know_ my photo is a winner. _No one_ can beat my entry."

' _Oh Victoria, please. You're always so stuck up and full of yourself. No wonder your elite Vortex Club has problems finding new members recently. Seriously, who even wants to hang out with a bunch of arrogant snobs?_ ' Max thought, letting out a quiet sigh.

As everyone heard Victoria say this in her typical dismissive tone, the whole room fell silent and they all stared at her.

Alyssa gave her an angry look, furrowing her brows and remarking. "You're so mean, Victoria."

However, Hayden on the other hand laughed as if he found it all highly entertaining. "Hell yeah, our sexy cat has some sharp claws. Watch out, Blackwell."

Victoria turned around to face all of them and sneered. "What are you all looking at, huh? I'm only stating the _obvious_. Compared to me you're all just _amateurs_. And please, don't look so shocked. We all know it's true."

Mr. Jefferson cleared his throat, gesturing with his hands and trying to calm his class down, noting. "I'm sure Ms. Chase only wants to fire up the competition here and judging by the look on your faces she accomplished her mission."

Max grimaced, thinking to herself. ' _Yes, way to go, Victoria. What a great motivational speech. It's as if a baseball player would tell his teammates they should go home now because they all suck at what they do_.'

Victoria only rolled her eyes, murmuring, "Whatever." and crossed the room to approach Taylor, absentmindedly tugging at the sleeve of her beige-colored cashmere sweater.

Her best friend giggled as Victoria took the seat next to her. "Oh Vic, you're such an evil beeatch."

"Really, I'm serious. This whole contest is a lame joke. Wannabe photographers and selfie hipsters don't even count as competition in my eyes." Victoria snorted and glared at Max for a moment before returning her attention to their photography teacher.

The art teacher rounded Daniel's desk, sitting casually on its front and speaking in an encouraging voice. "First of all I'd like all of you to follow Victoria's example. Don't be afraid and have the courage to share your work. This is _your_ opportunity to take your _first step_ into the art world. This is _your moment._ Don't throw it away."

His brown eyes wandered from one student to the next one as he went on. "Secondly, I want to make clear that I'll be a fair judge in this contest and I won't privilege anyone. The winner will be picked in consultation with Principal Wells who also has to confirm my decision. Thus, I can guarantee you that everyone possesses the _same_ chances."

Mark's gaze was now pinned on Max for a few seconds as if his words had been solely directed at her. She gulped and felt her pulse quickening, unable to hide from his piercing eyes. The ' _Everyday Heroes_ ' contest was on her mind, of course. But she didn't really have any ideas for a suitable submission and thought there was still enough time to come up with something. Or nothing at all. Knowing the latter was more probable.

' _Who's an Everyday Hero anyway? It's certainly not me_.' Max thought, her shoulders slumping and feeling like a loser again.

She tried to push her worries to the back of her mind by concentrating on the lecture from now on.

A smile appeared on Mr. Jefferson's lips as he began, talking in his typical soft voice. "I'm sure you studied the syllabus like it was a Harry Potter book, so you must know today we're discussing Henri Cartier-Bresson's concept of _the decisive moment_."

"Now, can anyone explain what Cartier-Bresson believed to be a _decisive moment_ and why purists regard him as the pioneer of the genre of street photography?" Mr. Jefferson asked them, his brown eyes scanning the whole room and finally pausing as they settled on Max.

"Since you told us that Cartier-Bresson is one of your many inspirations, I'm fairly certain _you_ can answer this question, Max." He addressed her in a challenging tone, purposefully choosing her instead of one of his other students.

His stare made her feel uneasy again. She nervously chewed the inside of her cheek and sank deeper into her chair.

' _I knew he'd pick me to answer that question. I fucking knew it_!' Max thought, attempting her best to ignore his provoking stare and realizing again that he did all this so she could gain more confidence. Mark always wanted to help her. In their private lessons but also in class, prompting her to crawl out of her shell.

After needing a few seconds to collect herself, she replied in a somewhat steady voice. "According to Cartier-Bresson a _decisive moment_ is that split second of genius and inspiration that a photographer has to capture a certain moment when life offers itself to us. This moment is fleeting. Once you miss that moment, it's gone forever because you can never recreate the same circumstances again."

Max noted how her teacher gave her an approving nod, his lips forming into a gentle smile. For a few seconds she just stared at his lips, her mind drifting off to another place. Suddenly the image of the forest appeared before her inner mind's eye. Everything around her was yellow and red and she saw his lips slowly descending upon hers. Max blinked the unbidden image away, feeling the growing red tint on her cheeks and continued. "This concept reminds us that the best photo opportunities often flash before our eyes and we must always have our camera ready at all times to capture those moments. And street photography is built on the mundane and ordinary moments, which means any moment is a potential for a great photograph. Like Cartier-Bresson every street photographer hunts the decisive moment, that split-second of beauty in life."

Mark Jefferson praised her. "Well done, Max. You summed up the concept of the decisive moment perfectly. Yet, I shouldn't be surprised. You're a street photographer yourself after all. Your polaroid camera captures emotion, humanity and soul. Decisive moments remind us to look a bit longer and to act a bit quicker, to cherish those fleeting moments without stopping to appreciate and to react to them."

Max didn't need to look around her to take note that the other students were staring at her. Especially Victoria seemed to be more pissed off than usual. Her dark eyes were full of jealousy, burning into the side of Max's skull.

She was relieved when her teacher quickly went on with his lesson, going around and thus drawing all eyes back to him. Mr. Jefferson took his time to talk in great length about ideal camera settings which were best suited to capture the decisive moment, suggesting to set the ISO at a fixed 100 and to try using a deeper depth of field. As for the shutter speed he recommended to keep it at around 1/125 or 1/60 for shots in bright daylight. But he also pointed out not to worry too much about camera settings and instead search for moments when things occur or a composition forms.

He also spent a lot of time reviewing Cartier-Bresson's famous shot of a man jumping across a puddle, regarding it as a perfect example of the decisive moment. Afterwards he chatted with each student, discussing other several example shots. Max automatically held her breath when he stood in front of her desk now, his fingers briefly touching her hand as he passed his photos to her. There was this electricity in the air again as his intent brown eyes focused on her. A feeling of maddening pressure that nearly made her shiver.

It took her a moment longer than expected but she somehow managed to take her eyes away from him to observe his photos.

Fortunately, the bell rang and saved her. Everyone was busy packing their stuff and Mr. Jefferson was quick to assign them to capture a decisive moment themselves as homework. Their eyes met once again as Max stood up from her chair. She sensed that he wanted to talk to her but he was soon interrupted by Victoria.

The pixie-haired girl had placed a hand on her hip, while the other offered Mr. Jefferson her expensive-looking black leather portfolio folder, asking in an exaggerated sweet voice. "Mr. Jefferson, you've _promised_ me you'd review my portfolio today."

"Of course, Ms. Chase. I haven't forgotten you. But would you please excuse me for a moment?" Mr. Jefferson already turned to Max, not bothering to listen to Victoria's protests as he simply ignored her.

Her teacher handed her a handwritten-note. "You've told me how you struggled to come up with ideas for the ' _Everyday Heroes_ ' contest. I thought you might need some inspiration, Max."

Max studied the note and saw a recommendation list of several photo books. Her brows furrowed when she spotted a question at the end of the list.

' _Would you like to meet me at my place at 6pm_?' She read and couldn't help but smile at him, nodding cheerfully. "Thanks for the book list, Mr. Jefferson."

He raised an eyebrow and Max felt her cheeks glowing, stammering. "A-And, I-I, um, yes. Bye, Mr. Jefferson."

Mark Jefferson seemed happy, saying good-bye and facing his student Victoria again who looked more than just slightly annoyed now.

"Why do you help her? That's unfair, Mr. Jefferson." Max heard Victoria complain snappishly, still being close enough to listen to their conversation.

Mr. Jefferson disregarded her obvious jealousy, one corner of his mouth slightly curled upwards in a hint of an amused smirk. "I fear not everyone in this class is as experienced and as talented as you, Victoria. So you surely understand that as your teacher I have to assist those of you who might need a small nudge in the right direction."

He jested. "And we can't have you being the _only_ photographer who submits a photo for the contest, right?"

His explanation was enough to leave Victoria with a perplexed expression on her face, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Max sighed, hoping she wouldn't discover another angry message on her room slate.

On her way out she caught sight of Nathan Prescott. He clutched a brown envelope in his hands and his facial expression became irritated as he recognized her. Though she tried to steer clear of him, he still managed to bump his shoulder into her, the forceful push almost knocking her to the ground.

"Didn't I tell you? You should watch where you're going, _bitch_! Or are you _deaf_?" Nathan snarled, a furious glint in his dark blue eyes.

"You..." ' _fucking asshole!_ ' She completed the sentence in her thoughts, not daring to swear at Nathan while she still stood in Mr. Jefferson's classroom. Her teacher was a member of the faculty and everything that transpired here would surely reach Principal Wells' ears as well.

Luckily, Mark seemed to be on her side, his voice sounding unusually deep and frightening behind her. "That's _enough_ , Mr. Prescott! How often do I have to tell you to treat your fellow students with respect?"

" _Respect_? Those _fuckers_ should treat _me_ with respect! I'm a _Prescott,_ for fuck's sake!" Nathan shouted loudly and slammed his envelope on the nearest table in an act of defiance, glaring at his teacher for a very long moment. Both men stared wordlessly at each other. No one in their presence dared to say a word.

As the silence almost became unbearable, Nathan seemed to have enough. There was anger in his glassy eyes when they flashed at Max one last time. She stood still, like a motionless statue, watching the rich teenager quickly move to stomp out of the room.

Max flinched automatically as he walked past her, the anxiety welling up inside her, thinking. ' _Holy shit_. _I've never seen him so angry like that. It's fucking scary_.'

Mr. Jefferson pulled her out of her thoughts, coming closer and asking her. "Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah, I-I'm okay, I-I guess." She muttered, trying to regain her composure.

"Don't let Nathan scare you, Max. I'm always here for you if you need anything, okay?" His soothing voice enclosed her, like a comforting blanket taking away all her worries, almost letting her forget Nathan's outburst.

Max nodded in return, her fingers curling nervously around the strap of her bag, getting a glimpse of Victoria's frowning stare. "Y-Yes, o-okay. Thanks, Mr. Jefferson."

With that she rushed out, heading for the girls bathroom to wash her face with cold water. First Mr. Jefferson, then Nathan and Victoria. It was all to much to handle. She needed a break from all that fuss. Especially if she wanted to visit Mr. Jefferson... Mark at his home again. Her last visit there had been like a crazy rollercoaster ride and chances were high it'd be like that again.

* * *

' _Keep cool, Super Max. You've been here before. No big deal. It's gonna be okay_.' She repeated over and over in her thoughts as she stood in front of Mr. Jefferson's impressive house again.

When Mark opened the front door to greet her, Max couldn't help but hold her breath for a moment. His face lit in a full blown, charming smile, and instantly she was mesmerized again. Her teacher's appearance was flawless, he looked elegant and hot. A sight which made her question how he always managed to look so attractive. A part of his alluring look was the darkness he personified, wearing a dark blue shirt with a black jeans today.

She also noticed something in the way he stared at her. There was a strange flicker in his brown eyes. What was it? Anticipation? Excitement? Whatever it was, it made her incredibly nervous and made her heart flutter in her chest.

"Hey, Max. I'm happy you've decided to come." He offered her his hand and guided her to the dining table in his lounge. Quiet, slow jazz music was playing in the background and there was a delicious, sweet food smell in the air.

However, Max was somewhere else again the minute she stepped into the room. Her mouth went dry as all her memories came back to her, overflowing her like an unstoppable flood. It had been here. Here in this room. The session where he had demonstrated how to shoot her in an unguarded moment. She tensely eyed the table, the image of herself being trapped there between the table's edge and Mark Jefferson appearing before her eyes.

He watched her with a concerned expression. "Everything okay, Max?"

"Um, y-yes. I-I was just a little distracted." Max stammered, blinking away the image and slowly becoming aware that they sat next to each other at the dining table now. Mark was very close to her, leaning back in a relaxed, casual manner, his hand resting behind her, on the back of her chair. There was no denying that he already exuded an aura of confidence in his classroom, easily drawing all attention to himself. But here, in his home, in his his territory, it was far stronger. As if being in his place only amplified his charisma and charm.

She instinctively put her hands in her lap, struggling to focus her thoughts on something else, trying to ignore his close proximity.

Mark must have sensed her tense state and stood up, announcing he'd get their evening meal. He soon returned with a plate full of crunchy, deep fried balls and put it on the table.

"Wowsers, that looks tasty. What's this?" Max wanted to know, her mouth starting to water and her hunger all of a sudden growing now.

"These are _arancini_ balls. A sicilian delight I've encountered in Palermo. _Arancini_ means ' _little oranges_ '. They contain meat sauce, rice, peas and mozzarella. It's one of my favorite dishes and has quickly become one of my many addictions during my time in Italy."

Max took a bite and loved how it tasted, feeling the hot cheese melt on her tongue and nodding. "This is so yummy, Mark."

He seemed delighted as he watched her eat. "I'm glad you enjoy this delicacy."

"Seriously though, you're a great photographer and a great cook. Is there even anything you can't do?" Max asked him with a grin, thinking to herself that he always strove for perfection, no matter if it involved food, photography or other subject areas.

Mark chuckled in response, shaking his head. "I have a great interest in many things but it'll surely surprise you that I'm totally unmusical. I can't even play one single instrument. So I'm hoping you play your guitar for me one day. I'd _love_ to _see_ you play, Max."

As she heard him say that, she immediately became flustered. "I can play a song or two. Though please don't expect too much. I'm just doing it for fun and I'm definitely not a pro."

"It doesn't matter if you're a beginner or a professional. As long as you love what you do, your passion for music will always shine through." He reminded her and chose to change the topic. "Anyway, I've invited you today because I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me? For _what_?" She asked, not really understanding what he meant by that.

"Do you remember our conversation about my unpublished work? You've told me that my style is more than just goth, chiaroscuro and art déco. That I should publicize my other work too." He recalled.

Max nodded in comprehension. "I remember, yes."

"Well, I've contacted my agent in New York and he made a few calls. It seems there are indeed publishers out there who're interested in putting out a series of photo books. I still have to arrange a selection based on different themes and it'll take a considerable amount of time to put everything together but...", his lips formed a content smile, "it feels great to get out there again and to know you've an audience admiring your art."

"Wowsers, that's great news, Mr. Jeff-, um, Mark. I really can't wait to see your books." She breathed.

His hand squeezed her shoulder, thanking her. "It's all thanks to _you_ , Max."

Blood rushed to her cheeks and Max shook her head shyly. "I-I didn't do anything. I just thought your work is breathtaking and that others should have a chance to see and appreciate it just as much as I do."

"You've also told me you're interested in my current photography. Would you like to have a look?" Mark asked her, his mild voice taking on a deeper tone.

She beamed, unable to hide her obvious enthusiasm as she replied right away. "Of course, I'd love to."

Mark smiled at her and left his chair, opening a dark cabinet and taking out an expensive-looking portfolio folder. Its black cover was adorned with a fine pattern of light gray intertwining swirls which were also interlaced with thin, golden streaks. After he set his folder down on the table he gave her a wine glass and poured her an expensive-looking french red wine, winking at her. "It's just one glass, Max. You see, I always prefer to admire art while enjoying a good drink. In my eyes it enhances the overall experience."

Max laughed nervously, staring at the dark red liquid in her glass, "One glass won't get me drunk, I suppose." and tried a small sip, tasting the bitter flavor in her mouth.

He chuckled, seemingly amused. "You won't get drunk, I promise. Unless you intend to gulp the whole bottle in one go."

Her cheeks flushed, she stammered in return. "M-Mark, I swear, I'd never do something like that."

"Oh, Max. Look at you. Your face changed color... You're _beautiful_." Mark noted, his apparent fascination visible in his gaze as he took a swig of his own glass now, his eyes never leaving hers.

Before Max could say anything he pointed at the folder. "Let's have a look at the portfolio, shall we? Unfortunately it only contains a small range of my photography but it should be enough to give you a general idea of what I'm trying to accomplish here."

Max leaned forward to study the first picture closely. It was a black and white shot of a female model, wearing a pale dress. She was lying on a white floor, her whole composure calm and serene as if she were asleep. Yet, her eyes were open here. They stared straight into the camera. This photo was similar to his many photos displayed on campus. Once again, the focus was on the eyes of his model, highlighting them as the gates to her soul.

She turned to the next page and recognized the same woman. This time it was a closeup shot of her face. Mark had succeeded to effectively use both light and shadow in perfect synergy here. They accentuated certain areas of her face and gave this image even more depth and contrast. If Max would have to describe it, she'd say it looked eerily haunting. Dark and gloomy, but at the same time elegant and beautiful.

Mark turned the pages now, giving comments about his models and his thoughts about composition and postures. All shots were black and white, all revealing other female subjects. While some models appeared to be conscious, most of them weren't. There were pictures of glassy, expressionless eyes staring into space or sleeping faces. However, what was striking was the pose. As if someone had chosen to arrange their lying bodies in an aesthetic manner, highlighting and flattering their female curves while at the same time hinting at their helplessness.

"So, what do you think, Max?" He asked her, cocking is head to one side and his deep brown eyes boring into her blue ones.

Max took a deep breath, mulling it over for a moment and carefully choosing her next words. "I think it's an interesting approach for such a complicated theme. Your photos look stunning, albeit they're also kind of mysterious and haunting."

A question came to her mind as her eyes scanned the photos again, asking in a curious tone. "You told me you're obsessed with the idea of capturing innocence. I wonder, wouldn't children be more suitable models than teenagers?"

"Children are the most obvious choice when we think of innocence. In my opinion it'd be too easy, too predictable to shoot them. That's one of the reasons why I've wanted to take another approach here, Max. My goal is to capture people at the _height_ of their beauty and innocence. A model unblemished by the surrounding materialistic world, untainted by society's bitterness and corruption. Models who still have preserved their purity, who still have hopes and dreams in their lives." Mark stated passionately.

"So, this unconscious state highlights their innocence? They look as if they're sleeping, completely unaware of their environment or what's happening to them. Is this a reminiscence of the _heroin chic_ style of the 90s? The way they seem semiconscious and drugged reminds me of this style." Max pointed out and was surprised to see an odd glint in her teacher's eyes.

' _Kate Moss had been a showcase model of this style at that time, looking pale, small-chested and almost androgynous. Although it was very popular in the 90s, there had been much criticism. Many blamed the fashion industry for glamorizing heroin use_.' Max remembered, seeing some kind of resemblance in Mr. Jefferson's shots.

Mark acknowledged her observation. "You have a keen eye, Max. You're right. _Heroin chic_ served as one of my inspirations. This style replaced glamorized fashion shoots with intimate shots which shattered the illusion of the previous fashion imagery. Most notably this type of fashion photography aligned itself with that of the work of art, finding its way onto the walls of art galleries. Now, don't get me wrong. I know this style is highly controversial and it's not my intention to support drug abuse by showing my subjects in this drugged-like state."

Max nodded and tried to put herself in his position as a photographer, thinking. "No, you want to capture this moment innocence _evolves_ into corruption. By shooting them in this state of complete vulnerability, they're laid bare and are exposed to your camera eye. They give themselves to you and leave the control entirely in your hands."

She glanced at his shot again, pondering. "I think their vulnerability is a symbol of their purity. And if your camera captures them in this state of unawareness, you thus taint their pureness."

For a long moment Mark just stared at her with his dark hooded eyes. There was something about the way he looked at her that sent immediate chills down her spine.

"You never cease to _amaze_ me, Max." Mark breathed, astonishment in his soft voice. "Your observations are largely correct. You see, when I worked in the fashion industry I couldn't find perfect innocence. Most models in this business are cynical and lose that naiveté."

He pointed his finger at the woman in his portfolio and went on. "So I began to search for models outside the fashion department. Models who aren't fake and conceited. Models who possess a natural beauty and who have that glow, that sparkle in their eyes. Their view of the world isn't tarnished yet. And by capturing them in this vulnerable condition, I open their eyes to the bitter reality. I let corruption stain them. I want to witness their transformation in their eyes. This is what fascinates me – that shift from youth to adulthood and to capture that exact moment in my art."

' _I don't know if I could ever be his model, being purposefully posed in such a way. Sure, it looks different and strangely beautiful, no question about it. But to leave myself utterly open like this, to lose control in such a manner... It's scary and thrilling at the same time_.' Max thought and chose to address this. "I can imagine that conducting such an intimate shoot requires a high level of trust between your model and you."

Mark Jefferson nodded at that, confirming in a thoughtful tone. "A _strong bond_ between a photographer and a subject is always an essential requirement, yes."

To her surprise his arm behind her chair suddenly went upward, starting to sneak around her shoulder. Mark leaned forward slightly, a curious expression on his facial features as his index finger slowly traced her jawline, asking suggestively. "Would _you_ do it, Max? Would you _entrust_ your _body_ and _soul_ to me?"

"I-I don't know." Max replied, uncertainty in her voice, staring into the dark depths of his brown eyes and feeling herself melt like butter under his touch as his warm hand tenderly caressed her cheek.

"Are you afraid? I can assure you I won't force you to do anything that might make you feel uncomfortable _._ " He promised her, turning an understanding smile upon her.

"I think I'd feel better if I knew how you want to shoot me." She said, thinking that knowing the details might lessen her worries somehow.

"Well, I won't take photos of you in an unconscious state. I'd prefer another approach to keep things interesting and unpredictable. Yet, what I can reveal to you is that I want to see emotion in those beautiful blue eyes of yours again, Max. This is exactly what I seek to capture. _Emotion_ , pure and genuine. _Emotion_ , holding so much _power_ , capable of transforming a moment into _eternity."_ Mark's silken voice surrounded her and his brown intense eyes had gone distant now, seeing a vision in his inner mind's eye which she couldn't see.

Max lowered her eyes in contemplation. It'd be nothing new to her to surrender the reins to him. This had already happened during her session at Arcadia Bay's forest. This new session wouldn't be any different. Max felt certain that he'd never hurt or compromise her, that she could rely on him. She raised her eyes and gave him a nervous smile. "I'd do it, Mark. I trust you and I'd like to be your model."

Her unexpected reply caught him unaware, he seemed genuinely surprised that she agreed to be his model again. Mark cupped her hands in his, one on top, the other beneath. "Thank you, Max. I promise, you won't regret your decision. This will surely become a _memorable_ session for both us."

Max swallowed, trying to steady her breathing. Mark's words and his closeness were almost too much to bear. It brought back thoughts and feelings she wanted so desperately to keep in check. Her hand grabbed her wine glass in a quick motion and she gulped down all, hoping the alcohol would calm her down somehow.

She proceeded to turn her attention back to his portfolio, turning over the page and wondering in a thoughtful tone. "There's always darkness permeating your art. Why?"

The current picture presented another monochrome shot of a young girl, sitting on a gray floor with her back leaning against a white backdrop. Her facial expression was dreamy, as if her mind was elsewhere. It reminded Max of her own shot at the lighthouse in a way. But in comparison to her photo, this one possessed a more sinister look. The girl was shrouded in darkness, her body partially obscured by shadows. As if the darkness was swallowing the light she represented. It became apparent that Mark's chiaroscuro style changed the overall mood of the scene into something cold and menacing.

Mark's eyes followed hers and examined the picture too. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he murmured. "Darkness is secretive and impenetrable while light is associated with life, warmth or sensuality. We both know that light is essential in photography. But darkness, or more precisely the absence of light is equally important. Both are complementary rather than oppositional. The play of light and dark gives our composition a significant impact. The contrast can produce truly spectacular images. Shadows can reveal or hide certain features, they add drama, emotion or mystery to our photos."

He paused briefly, turning his eyes wholly on Max, his voice sounding deeper as he admitted. "I'm intrigued by _darkness_ , Max. To tell you the truth I've experienced dark times in my life myself and photography has become my outlet to visualize my thoughts. It aids me to drive out my shadows, to create something meaningful, something beautiful. That's why I've embraced darkness in my art and it'll always be a part of who I am."

Max gave him a concerned, sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mark. I didn't know. I mean I didn't want to..."

' _You've done it again, Max. Why are you so goddamn nosy?_ ' She asked herself in her thoughts.

Mark held up his hand and stopped her, appeasing her. "It's alright, no harm done. I rarely talk about my past and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Yet, I wanted to be honest with you because I think you deserve to know the truth. And I hope this helps you to get a better understanding of my photography." Mark wanted to say more but was all of a sudden interrupted by the loud ringing tone of his cellphone.

He arched an eyebrow when he read the phone number of the caller on his small display screen and stood up, apologizing to her with a gesture of his hand. "Please excuse me, Max. I have to take this. I promise, it won't take long."

With that he tapped a button on his screen and walked a little farther away from her. "Hello?" Max watched him pause for a moment and then say. "No, that's not possible right now. I have a visitor here. Can we meet later?"

Silence followed and Mark seemed to listen intently what the person on the other end of the line had to say, before speaking in a rather irritated tone. " _Listen_ , I know you're upset, okay? But you should calm down and ..."

Although he was standing a few meters away from her, Max swore that she could hear the other person yell angrily now. It was a male voice but she couldn't make out who it was.

Mark clenched his hand, a cold finality in his voice now as he said firmly. "That's _enough_. I can't have this conversation with you right now. So would you please just hang up the phone?"

A peeping sound could be heard in the room now, signaling that the caller had abruptly quit their talk.

' _Okay, that was strange. I wonder who that person was._ ' Max thought, wishing she could investigate this matter and switch to her Sherlock Holmes detective mode.

"I'm sorry about that, Max. How about us going downstairs and I give you a little tour of my photo studio?" He suggested, the annoyance in his voice was completely gone and immediately replaced by warmth as he smiled at her.

Max nodded. "Wowsers, sure. I didn't know you have your own studio here."

"It's rather small and nothing special. But it's better than nothing, right?" Mark winked at her and escorted her down to the cellar. The room was indeed very small just as he had told her. The walls were all white and everything was very clean. For a second Max thought she was standing in a hospital room because everything seemed so sterile. The strong smell of cleaning agents and disinfectant filled her nostrils.

A large white backdrop at the far end of the room dominated the space. His expensive photography equipment was positioned around the studio area. Max spotted two soft boxes and two light stands with umbrellas, illuminating the small space in bright white light. There were at least three different tripods and she could make out a DSLR and a monochrome camera. The third one seemed to be a film camera which was attached to the third tripod, standing a little sideways in contrast to the cameras right in front of the backdrop.

All in all his studio setup seemed sparse, containing only few furniture. There was a white leather couch in front of the photo studio area, right behind it stood a wooden desk with a chair. A laptop and a small loudspeaker system were on his desk and there was nothing else. No decoration, no photos or paintings. Somehow it made her feel cold and uncomfortable here.

Mark must have sensed her uneasiness and informed her in a soothing tone. "I know this studio doesn't seem very inviting, Max. It's newly renovated and still needs additional equipment, furnishing and decoration. For now it only serves its purpose as plain photo studio."

"So our session will take place here?" Max asked, unconsciously biting her bottom lip, being unable to conceal her own nervousness. The sheer thought of having another session with him here was enough to send goosebumps all over her body.

"That's the plan, yes." His observant eyes mustered her now, amusement coloring his tone and a knowing smirk appearing on his lips. "Tell me, Max. Does the prospect of another session _excite_ you?"

The brunette shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wanting to break eye contact but knowing full well that she couldn't hide from those scrutinizing brown eyes as she replied. "Well, our sessions are always so intimate and intense. I never know what awaits me. Claiming I'm _only_ excited would be an understatement. And I-I think I definitely need something to relax before we do this."

A smile parted his lips as he teased her. "Don't worry, Max. We'll find something. How about a bottle of Ramazotti? It might help take the edge off."

She laughed nervously. "Do you want to turn this session into a sensual art photography session as well, Mark?"

He gave her a playful wink. "Only if you ask me to."

"Speaking of sensual art photography... I'm kinda curious. How did you do it? How could you convince Mr. Neri's wife to let you capture her naked? And how do you generally conduct such a session?" Max wanted to know.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Max. You must understand that my private sessions are very _personal_ , very _intimate_. It's one of my rules to keep this to myself, similar to a medical confidentiality. I follow this rule out of respect for my models, to protect their privacy." He clarified in a matter-of-fact tone, his lips curling upwards into a suggestive smile now. "But if you really want to know, I can only _encourage_ you to try it out _yourself_."

"Um, no. I-I think I-I'll stick to our usual sessions instead." Max uttered quickly, averting her eyes and already feeling the heat of her body accumulate in her head.

Noticing her insecurity Mark admitted almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, Max. Of course we'll only do sessions you're absolutely okay with."

Max didn't know if it was due to the alcohol in her system but she felt lightheaded and slightly tipsy. And hearing his excuse only encouraged her to finally broach the real elephant in the room, their kiss. "Mr. Jeff...," Her voice trailed off and she quickly corrected herself, "Mark... Your kiss yesterday... I still don't understand why..." She tried tentatively, already regretting her decision to touch upon the subject, fearing a rejection.

He narrowed his eyes, admitting in a reflective tone. "I know I probably shouldn't have done that. I've clearly overstepped my bounds as your teacher and that was inappropriate."

Max felt the disappointment rise inside her when she heard him say that. As if all her hope had been squashed from one second to the other. The sudden urge to leave this room was strong now, to walk out as quickly as possible and to never look back. But something in his eyes kept her there, leaving her with a tiny glimmer of hope.

Mark moved around his desk and opened a drawer, removing a large-sized photo print. His attentive eyes wandered over the print, taking his time to appreciate the shot before his gaze returned to her. He flipped the print for her and she just stared at the familiar photo with wide eyes.

It was her climax photo from yesterday's photo session. The moment of their kiss forever captured in a photograph. His dark eyes were shining behind his glasses as he emphasized his opinion. "This shot is _perfect_ , Max. You truly have a gift. And just to be clear on this, I usually _don't_ _kiss_ my models to get an emotional response. But as I've told you before, with you it felt right to me to take this _approach_."

Mark placed the photo on his desk in a careful manner, treating it like an invaluable treasure. After taking a few steps towards her direction, he told her. "I truly believe we share a unique connection. Your passion and enthusiasm reminds me of myself, Max. I see a _kindred soul_. A soul able to see the world through the _same_ lens as _me_."

He was very close now and his calm gaze moved unhurriedly over her face, from her lips up to her blue eyes. There was this strange captivation in his eyes again, his voice almost a whisper. " _You're_ the _light_ shining through my darkness, Max. Y _ou're_ the _one_ who immerses my monochrome world into color."

Max licked her lips nervously, her whole body felt rigid inside, as if it was only filled by her throbbing, echoing heartbeat alone. The feel and smell of Mark's warm breath on her face was enough to send all her senses into overdrive. In that one moment it became all the more clear to her that she couldn't deny the power he held over her.

"And I've been searching for someone like you for a long time", her teacher demonstratively snapped his fingers and added, " _Someone_ who _sparks_ my inspiration like an artist's muse."

His words left her utterly speechless, she didn't know how to respond. There was no more searching for words. There were no longer words at all. Inside her head was only fire. Max felt the heat on her face as she stared helplessly into those dark eyes behind the black and white framed glasses, stammering. "I-I don't know what to say."

He hushed her in a soothing voice, his hand stroking her hair. "Shhh, it's okay. You don't have to say anything now. I want you to take your time and search your own feelings. _Admit_ to yourself that you _feel_ it too."

"Feel _what_?" Max asked nervously, although she already knew the answer to his question in her heart. Maybe she only needed him to speak the words out loud, to let them become reality.

He tilted her head up so that he could stare directly into her blue eyes, his deep voice seeming to come from very far away. "Are we not past the point of beating about the bush? I'm _drawn_ to you, Max. Just as you are...", he cupped her face between his hands and pressed his forehead against hers, intensity gleaming in his dark eyes as he whispered very softly, " _drawn_ to me."

* * *

Cold air and darkness surrounded him as he sat alone on his bed. His glassy eyes gazed in wonder at the projected monochrome images on the wall. A world of black and white. While color photography depicted reality, black and white always felt surreal to Nathan Prescott. It was a dark, dislocated world so different from the one he lived in. An escape from bitter reality which was almost as effective as Frank's good stuff.

The air condition in his dorm room was running at full power now. Nathan had been shaking uncontrollably, yet it wasn't due to the cold temperature. The combination of drugs, meds and beer had fucked up his body really hard. Everything was hazy, his entire vision a blur. And his body had felt heavy and so extremely hot as if he suffered from a high fever. That's why he had turned on the aircon. His plan was to fight heat with chillness.

Nathan loved the cold. Winter had always been his preferred season. Colors turned to gray, the sun hid behind a veil of thick clouds and he simply enjoyed the snowflakes on his face, feeling like tiny needles piercing his skin. Winter was mourning and death. It offered him more photo possibilities than any other season. White snow and dead animals covered in dark shadows, a perfect contrast for his black and white photography.

His teeth started to chatter and his hand still held one of Mark's disposable cell phones in a tight grip. A part of him considered smashing this damn thing against the wall, to see it shatter in front of his eyes. It would give him some satisfaction, if only for a moment.

His free hand suddenly clutched at his head, rubbing it incessantly. The pain was excruciating, the headache had turned from throbbing ache to piercing torment. His agony filled everything he was, his mind trying desperately to sustain what was left of his sanity.

"Mark." He sighed, his hoarse voice sounding like a pleading whimper. Nathan needed his father now. No, not Sean. Sean wasn't his father. Not anymore. But Mark... Mark was everything, and more. His teacher, his mentor, his friend, his confidant... and most importantly, he was his dad.

A dad who truly cared, who showed him kindness, who gave him purpose, praise and most of all attention. However, Nathan also knew this man could be his downfall. Like a drug Mark could give him the greatest rush. He was the one who made him feel so alive, who filled the black void that was his empty heart. But it all came with a prize. You couldn't strike a deal with the devil and hope to leave it all unscathed. Mark would surely kill him. Agonizingly slow and with a gentle smile on his face. Mark was poison. And the taste of the sweetest poison was always the most deadliest.

His life had been dull and boring. But it all changed when Mark Jefferson had crossed his path. They had met at one of Sean's dumb parties. A welcoming ceremony to celebrate the famous photography teacher and his newly established art program at Blackwell Academy. It had been a party like any other at first. Everyone minded their own business and avoided the weird blond teenager in their midst who was always busy fiddling around with his expensive monochrome camera. No one cared. No one wanted to talk to him. Nathan's reputation preceded him. People were whispering behind his back, calling him crazy and mentally unstable. What the fuck did they know? They knew nothing. Not his parents, not his sister Kristine, not his best friend Vic and most certainly not his fucking psychiatrist Dr. Jacoby.

He was Nathan fucking Prescott. The one who would own this shitty town one day. Mark Jefferson was the first person who actually listened to what Nathan had to say. At the party he had intently studied his photos and had offered him help and advice. Later they had begun to meet each other more frequently.

Mark was always there. His soothing voice was the only voice he trusted. The others were all just fucking liars and hypocrites. It didn't take long until Mark revealed his true photography. It was dark and glorious, possessing an incomparable elegance he couldn't copy with his own style. No matter how hard he tried, he failed again and again.

Yet, Mark was patient and understanding. He gave him guidance and shared his vast wisdom with his new son. The Prescott bunker was Nathan's gift to his mentor. The dark room became their secret haven, a place to pursue their own artistic vision.

His job had been easy. Get the girls and drag them to their hideout. Mark conducted the sessions most of the time while Nathan stood in the shadows, watching and waiting. Occasionally, his teacher would beckon him to come closer and ask him to take pictures himself. It was a test. A test he'd never pass. But Nathan didn't care. He was content to spend time with his mentor, to crave his brief, torturous touches on his porcelain skin. It had been the best time of his miserable life.

Somehow it all went downhill when Rachel entered the picture one day. It was all her fault. The stupid bitch had taken Mark away from him. Nathan had been so jealous, he had wanted to make her suffer. So he had chosen to abduct and drug her himself. His goal was to show Mark that Rachel was nothing special by framing her his way. His photos of her were supposed to remind his father that this slut didn't deserve his time and affection. That she was just another model, just another monochrome picture inside a red binder.

Unfortunately, he had killed her by applying an overdose. It was a terrible accident. Nathan had been careless because his anger at her had made him blind. He was sorry and hurting but Mark purposefully ignored him the past few months, making him feel like shit. Maybe he deserved this kind of treatment since he was the one responsible for Rachel's demise. Maybe this was his punishment to repent for his sins. But it didn't really matter. What mattered was that the silence between Mark and him almost drove him crazy.

His life was nothing without his mentor. Only Mark was able to feed the dark flame within him. Sean always called his son's photography twisted, sick and disturbed. However, Mark never judged Nathan's obsession and encouraged and welcomed it instead. No one appreciated his art the same way Mark did.

His heart had jumped with joy when his teacher chose to break the silence and asked him to work together again.

A new project. Kate Marsh. Nathan hadn't been able to contain his happiness in that moment. He was allowed to meet Mark again, to hear his comforting words and to feel safe in his warm embrace. His life had meaning again. Yet, not for long.

Fucking fate decided to mock him once again when it put Max Caulfield as a new obstacle in his path. In his mind it was all a fucking joke. Everything seemed to repeat itself. It was Rachel Amber all over again. Only this time it was much worse.

He knew that look on Mark's face well. It was the same look he used to give him. But now he reserved his appreciative smile only for that hipster bitch Caulfield. Nathan had decided to wait at first, hoping that Mark would soon get bored with the stupid girl. But that wasn't the case. On the contrary, it became even far worse. Nathan fucking knew that Caulfield had been the visitor at Mark's home today when he had called him. There had been something in Mark's tone that was unmistakable, making it perfectly clear that his visitor had a higher priority in his eyes than his own protégé.

This revelation had been enough to send Nathan over the edge. He had collected all his prescriptions and drugs he could find in his room and created his own little drug cocktail, gulping everything down with a bottle of beer. First he felt like shit but the sharp ache soon faded away, exchanged with a feeling of getting higher and drowning in a sea of his own intoxication.

' _Fucking liar!_ _Fuck you, Mark Fuckerson!_ ' Nathan thought, throwing the cellphone across the room and clenching his fists now.

' _You'll see. I'll get that hoe. And this time I'll do it right_.' The plan was already set in motion in his mind. He'd do it. And this time he won't fuck up again.


	9. Chapter 8: Into darkness

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N: A big thank you goes to Lunamoon531 and mrsvandebilt for the reviews. They really make it worthwhile and get me excited to keep going. So once again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It's very much appreciated. To mrsvandebilt: yes, Spain was awesome, thank you. :)**_

 **Chapter 8: Into darkness**

Time seemed to pass by at a different pace as if everything happened in slow motion. Max remembered listening to Mark Jefferson's words, feeling the warmth of his hands upon her cheeks and staring into the darkness of his brown eyes. His eyes. Eyes so focused on her, always seeing right through her and knowing her like no one else, effortlessly reading her thoughts like an open book.

Mark's deep voice was still an echo in her own ears, his whispered words turning her whole world upside down. ' _I'm drawn to you, Max. Just as you are drawn to me_.'

It was unbelievable yet there was no mistake. She had heard him right. Wasn't this what she always wanted to hear him say? To know that she wasn't the only one who felt this rising magnetism between them? A pulling effect so irresistible and powerful that she couldn't escape from its grasp. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't resist his attraction. The nagging question was, what should she do now?

Mark was positive that she was special to him and he thus had no problems revealing his true feelings. However, for a self-doubting person like Max it was far more difficult to admit how she truly felt. She was afraid of her own feelings, already fearing all the problems and implications in the near future. This uncertainty and worry felt like carrying an invisible heavy weight upon her shoulders. A weight which prevented her from gaining happiness in her life. Did she even deserve to be happy? That was a question she often asked herself lately.

' _I disappointed Chloe, my best friend. I left her when she needed me the most. I'm just a loser who keeps dragging everybody down_.' Max thought with a deep sigh.

The tension in her body gradually diminished as she drove back to Blackwell Academy on her red road racer. The more distance she covered, the calmer she became. Max hoped the familiar school environment might help her to clear her head. It was already getting late and the air was becoming chilly. All she wanted was to seclude herself in her dorm room and relax on her comfy bed, to stay alone and listen to Syd Matters songs for the rest of the evening.

After her arrival at Blackwell she met her classmate Daniel DaCosta on her way to the school's bicycle area . The quiet, chubby-cheeked boy sat on the lawn and leaned back against a tree trunk. His right hand was busy moving a pencil and smoothly drawing outlines in his sketch book. As Daniel noticed her, his observant eyes assessed her like a painter who would study a next suitable subject.

"What's up, Daniel? Did you find your new muse?" Max asked him.

"Oh, hi, Max. I'm still searching but I'm confident to find a new muse soon." He replied and looked up at her face, remarking. "You look _different_."

" _Different_? Me?" Max gave him a puzzled look and thought for a moment that he probably meant her clothes before it dawned on her that she didn't wear anything out of the ordinary today. It was just her usual outfit, blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

"It's your _expression_. You seem very happy as if...", he smiled knowingly and guessed. "As if you're in love."

"Um, _in love_? I-I don't really think that I'm... you know, well, perhaps, just a little." Max stammered nervously, averting her eyes and mentally admonishing herself for being that obvious.

"This brings back memories of my last muse... _Rachel_. She was our _light_. A shining goddess with a mysterious aura, always catching everyone's eyes. I see a strong resemblance... You have this radiant aura too, Max. It reminds me so much of her."

' _Rachel... That name doesn't ring a bell. But then again, I'm a newbie. I still need to get to know the other students around here_.' Max thought.

There was excitement visible on Daniel's face now as he asked in a nervous tone. "Would you... allow me to sketch you, please? I think this could become something really beautiful."

Max's cheeks turned red as she heard his request, answering. "Uh, sure, why not?"

"Thank you, Max. This will be great, I have a good feeling about this." Daniel promised her and gave her simple instructions how she should pose for him.

The minutes went by very slowly and Max felt all her limbs go numb one by one. It was crazy. Daniel's drawing session almost lasted over half an hour now. Just as she wanted to ask him if he was finished he finally gave her a thumbs up, showing her his newest sketch.

For a moment Max wondered why she had to pose for him at all because Daniel had only made a portrait of her face. But she didn't want to complain, his sketch looked absolutely amazing.

"I-I don't know what to say. It's beautiful, Daniel." Max breathed, thinking to herself that Daniel had managed to capture her dreamy expression perfectly.

Daniel smiled bashfully while his eyes looked down at his book, saying in a thoughtful tone."I think I call this drawing _a glimpse of love_."

"Uh, that title is kinda fitting, I guess." Max agreed with a coy smile, staring at the sketch as if it somehow reflected the truth like a mirror, showing her what she was afraid to admit to herself.

' _Yes, look at that face. You're in love, idiot. It's no use to hide from the truth forever. And you just can't turn off your feelings like a light switch_.' She thought, still being uncertain what to do. Mark surely awaited an answer and it would be impossible to adopt stalling tactics here.

"That was fun. I hope we can do this again sometime." Daniel proposed.

Max nodded, replying reluctantly. "I-I, uh, sure, just hit me up if you like to sketch me again."

After saying good-bye she brought her bike to the parking area. As the young student knelt down to attach her bicycle lock, she suddenly felt something solid hit the back of her head.

An immediate surge of pain went through her, making her feel dizzy and overcoming her like a shock. It all happened so fast that she barely realized how her body dropped limp from one second to the other, hitting the hard stone ground with a thud.

A pair of brown leather sneakers came into sight and the next moment she felt a sharp sting as something pierced the side of her neck. Max panicked and tried to get away but it was a pointless endeavor. Her body wasn't obeying her anymore. She was quickly losing consciousness. Her whole vision turned black. Coldness engulfed her, like a shroud wrapping around her body and dragging her into a pit of endless nothingness.

* * *

The sun was already going down and the skies were turning dark as the night finally settled in. Mark Jefferson was driving home after finishing his groceries shopping tour. His hand reached down to turn the knob and raise the volume so that he could fully enjoy his jazz music in his black sedan, humming to himself while his fingers drummed on the steering wheel in accordance with the beat.

Mark had been in high spirits today. Everything went exactly as he had planned it. All his attention was focused on his newest project, Maxine Caulfield. He had chosen Max as his candidate to become his next protégé. A worthy replacement for Nathan Prescott. There was even the possibility that he could do without the boy soon. He had considered all available options and also had a backup plan in mind. In fact, he already had a second accomplice who provided him with the drugs he needed. Maybe he could create a scenario where he'd no longer need Nate's assistance.

However, these thoughts were all still up in the air. It all depended on Max's progress. He had to mold her so that she could assume the role he had intended for her.

Was Max ready? Or was it even possible that he erred, that he overestimated her potential? After today's events Mark Jefferson was certain that any remaining doubts on the matter were entirely dispelled now. The more time he spent with her, the more clarity he gained, reminding himself that he had indeed made the right decision, that all his invested time hadn't been a wasted effort.

This conclusion became even clearer to him when he had revealed the true extent of his black and white photography to her. Of course he had been very careful. The small photo collection had only contained an excerpt of his work where he had purposefully left out all the shots of his tied up models. He also didn't mention the use of drugs to achieve the expressions he'd been looking for. There was no need to hurry and he'd take his time. Max would learn of his unusual methods little by little. This delicate introduction to his art was a necessary step, to get Max to a point where he wanted her to be.

What a pleasant surprise it had been to witness how she had appreciated his shots. Max's interpretations clearly indicated that she understood the greatness of his vision, that she was able to see what Nathan could never comprehend. The Prescott boy only concentrated on the aesthetics, only trying to replicate his teacher's style. To have an eye for shadows wasn't enough. Nathan needed more than this gift to rise above the ordinary.

And Max, well, she was an exceptional student. Mark had to admit that his first impression of her had been negative, thinking that she wasted her unique talent on simple _selfies_. Selfies... How he hated that word. This dumb word was an abomination, a mockery of an old and grand photographic tradition.

To Mark's astonishment his opinion about her soon changed as he watched her flourish under his careful teachings. Max's photography underwent a significant change and observing this transformation with his own eyes excited and also astounded him at the same time. The adolescent began to shed the layers of her innocence to reveal the young woman that lay beneath. There was a noticeable change in Max's demeanor as she slowly gained more and more confidence.

At the beginning it had been unthinkable to convince her to pose in front of his camera eye. And now she had agreed to be his model. His excitement grew. The prospect of framing Max as he envisioned her in his mind was thrilling. This elation was almost causing a careless slip of his mask.

The role of the charming art teacher suited him perfectly and it was always easy to don the facade, to hide the darkness underneath his mask.

However, the deeper their bond became, the more he started to realize that his mask would surely crumble and fall apart someday. Her reactions to his advances were a test of his patience time and again. Every slight tremble and every single shiver of her body whenever he touched her skin didn't go unnoticed. Mark was completely aware of the effect he had on women. After all, he was a very attractive man and even now as he got older, his good looks remained.

Although he often shied away from maintaining a lasting relationship to avoid the related intimacy, he still obtained knowledge from the women themselves about how they wanted to be treated. Women needed charm and appreciation, they needed to feel special and he knew how to give them what they sought. It was one of Mark's many abilities to read people, and as he delved further into his manipulations of everyone around him, he knew how to interact with a woman, or a man, to get what he wanted.

Max wasn't any different. She was happy to receive his praise and attention. Moreover, his subtle flirtations had served as a means to develop a connection between them. This was the fastest and also easiest approach to influence her, to gain her trust and to have complete control over her. To have Max fall head-over-heels in love with him was a preferable outcome that played right into his hands. Oh Christ, he loved the power he held over her. Being in control was very important to Mark Jefferson. He could never afford to lose it. His dark past had taught him this valuable lesson which he'd never forget for the rest of his life.

However, it was also vital to maintain control over himself. Holding himself back was becoming more and more difficult for him. The feel of her lips as Mark had kissed his student during her forest photo session was still a vivid memory in his mind. He had savored her like a connoisseur reveled in the sweet aroma of a fine wine. This experience only furthered his desire and he became aware that he wanted more. That he craved everything she had to offer. And in return he would put his Max on a pedestal and worship her like no one else could. He would ignite her brilliant blue eyes with a consuming passionate fire and let her body succumb to sensations she had never felt before in her young life.

Sooner or later his mask would surely shatter and he would cave in to his emotions. Yet for now, he decided to bide his time a little longer. All good things come to those who wait. And he had waited for such an opportunity for a very long time. Max was already entangled in his web and nothing would snatch her away from him.

The sound of his buzzing cellphone distracted him from his thought process. A quick glance at the displayed number indicated that it was Nathan Prescott. Again. What did he want now? Mark had heard enough of his whining and he didn't feel like listening to more of his fucking rants today.

' _Who does he think I am? His babysitter?_ ' Mark thought with a grimace and grudgingly pushed the green button to accept the call.

"What do you _want_ , Nate?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

There was no answer and instead he could only hear Nathan's heavy breathing and the static noises of the phone line.

"Listen, I don't have time for this bullshit right now. Say what you have to say or... " Mark began and paused when Nathan's agitated voice broke the silence.

"I-I need your help." Nathan pleaded with a shaky voice.

Mark furrowed his brows. He didn't like the sound of Nathan's voice. Something terrible had happened. He sensed it, no, he _knew_ it.

There was a sudden edge in his deep voice now as he asked in a cold, demanding tone. "What crazy _shit_ have you _done_ now?"

The kid was sobbing, his fragile voice was breaking. "I-I didn't want to h-hurt _her_. I-I'm s-sorry, Mark."

Mark clenched his fist and dug deeper. "Hurt whom?"

"C-Caulfield." The instant Mark heard her name, his face contorted in anger and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. That couldn't be possible. First Rachel and now Max? Nathan's obvious jealousy towards Max was no secret to him. But after the whole Rachel Amber accident he had assumed that the boy wouldn't be dumb enough to repeat the same foolishness twice.

It was a disastrous misjudgment on his part. Mark often compared himself to a skilled chess player. Someone who moved his pieces on the board, carefully calculating each and every move, foreseeing and anticipating the steps of his opponent simultaneously.

How couldn't he see this coming? Had he underestimated the Prescott kid, not taking his mental illness and drug addiction into consideration? Or maybe he had been so obsessed with Max lately that he had simply turned a blind eye to his partner. A fatal misstep. One which could cost Max her life.

The sheer thought of losing her made him tense, yet Mark tried to remain calm and composed as he asked matter-of-factly. " _Where_ is she?"

Nathan's reply came out choked. "I-In the d-dark room."

"Calm down and stay where you are. I'm on my way." Mark told him as his foot pushed the accelerator pedal down to belt down Arcadia Bay's main street, driving as fast as he could. On his way he clearly disregarded several traffic rules, being way over the speed limit and also jumping a red light more than just once. But he didn't care. The current circumstances left him no other choice. Fortunately he probably wouldn't get into any trouble. Arcadia Bay's police seemed busy guarding the Prescott properties most of the time instead of patrolling the town's streets.

"A-Are you going to... _k-kill_ me?" Nathan asked, his fear seeping into his voice as he hesitantly uttered the word kill.

"We're partners, Nate. Don't you trust me?" His soft voice sounded reassuring yet beneath the calm exterior Mark's anger was boiling like hot lava inside a raging volcano.

There was a pause now and he could only hear the boy's quiet sobs. When Nathan spoke next, he seemed apologetic. "I-I wanted to do it right this time. I-I didn't want to hurt her."

"Shh, I know, Nate. It's alright. Don't worry, I'll take _care_ of _everything_. I'm almost there." He assured him and drove up the lone street that led to the Prescott barn.

Mark ended the call and parked his car in front of the derelict old farmhouse, running inside and hurrying down the bunker's stairs. As he pushed the transparent curtain aside to enter the dark room, he spotted Max's unconscious body lying on the white floor of the photo studio area. It was a sight he had always wished to see. Yet, right now it only filled him with concern and displeasure.

Nathan sat curled up on the couch, his body rocking back and forth like a troubled child and his fingers nervously rubbing his temples. His precious monochrome camera was on the side table, seemingly forgotten by its owner. Mark would have to check at a later time if Nathan had taken any pictures of his Maxine, making a mental note to himself that his partner should delete them. The only one who would capture Max was Mark himself. Only he could do her justice.

His student almost jumped from his seat when Mark's footsteps echoed through the room, announcing his arrival. "I'm here, Nate. What's the situation?"

"S-She blacked out and had convulsions. Fuck, I-I saw her w-whole body s-shaking like crazy. I-I don't know what happened." Nathan stammered.

Mark didn't bother to throw a glance at his so-called son and quickly approached Max instead, taking her wrist in his hands and checking her pulse while his eyes observed her breathing. He detected a low pulse and her respiration seemed strained. Placing his palm on her forehead he also noticed cold sweat and a low body temperature. His quick examination didn't ease his worries at all. Whatever Nathan had given her, he had to make sure to remove the substance now. Time was of the essence as he looked up at Nathan, asking him. "Which drug did you use?"

Nathan's face was completely white as he just stared at him wordlessly. He was obviously doped. It was a wonder that he was still mentally stable enough to communicate.

Mark stood up and walked over to him, his brown eyes studying his partner. "You're as pale as a ghost. Are you okay?"

Nathan only nodded in return and avoided eye contact. It was almost as if he was too afraid to be opposite his mentor, his palpable dread causing his body to tremble like a leaf. Mark's patience was growing thin. He grabbed him by the collar of his red cardigan and looked down on him with a gaze cold as ice.

"I really _hate_ to repeat myself. So I'll ask you one _last time_. _Where_ are the _drugs_?" Mark questioned again, his deep voice louder now, clearly betraying his annoyance. Playing the nice teacher role wouldn't get him anywhere here. Nathan had to wake up from his stupor. He needed to pull himself together.

The boy shook under his tight grip and pointed a shaking finger at a syringe and a vial on the desk, replying in a low, fearful voice. "O-Over there. I-It's muscle relaxant and GHB."

"I see." Mark nodded and released him, inspecting the vial's content and noticing that the GHB dose had been too high for Max. It was fairly obvious that Nathan applied the usual amount without taking Max's weight into account. Another problem was the mixing of muscle relaxant and GHB which could always have unexpected side effects, depending on how well the body tolerated the drugs.

Mark opened a drawer of his desk and removed a small plastic bag connected to a tube, talking in a conversational tone. "After what you did to Rachel, I had to take precautions to have the appropriate resources ready at hand if such an accident would ever happen again."

He returned to Max and disinfected her skin with a cotton swab before carefully inserting a needle into a vein in the crook of her elbow, connecting the intravenous line with the the bag. "Since Blackwell faces so many drug problems lately, I've asked Nurse Barenchi for a suitable countermeasure to handle emergency cases such as drug overdose."

Mark held up the bag demonstratively and went on with his explanation. "This tube is an IV. This way we can administer intravenous fluids which speed up the removal of the drug substance. It's a very helpful tool. Isn't it?"

Nathan watched his teacher fumbling with a clamp which regulated the rate of the fluid flow, hearing him add in a mild tone. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be so _stupid_ to do this shit again, Nate."

Nathan leaned forward in his seat and hissed. "I was angry. You said Caulfield was _nothing_ to you. You fucking _lied_ to me!"

Mark sighed, switching to his typical teacher tone and treating Nathan like an inattentive student. "Max is _everything_ to me. I didn't expect your brain to understand such complexities. See? That's the reason why I had to lie. Because I knew exactly how you'd react. And now..." He gazed down at Max and continued, "look at the mess you've left behind."

"What's gonna happen now?" Nathan's irritation was gone, replaced by fear of uncertainty as he bit down on his lower lip.

"I'll _handle_ Max. And you..." Mark's eyes became stern behind his glasses. "You'll face the consequences of your actions, Nate. I've warned you to leave Max out of this."

Nathan felt the blood in his veins freeze, dreading what might come next. His blue eyes glared at the white floor and he shuddered at the mere thought. "Don't tell me you'll take _Vic_."

"I _have_ to. You leave me no other choice." Mark made clear and pointed at the cabinet which contained all red binders. "In fact, I've already prepared two binders. One for Kate and a second one for Victoria. I must confess, I never thought that we'd have to complete Miss Chase's binder now. You see, I've been looking forward to our session with dear Kate. She's the model I _wanted_ to _capture_. Not Victoria. But you just had to come and ruin everything, didn't you, Nate?"

"Please, _don't do_ this, Mark. Look, I-I'm fucking sorry, okay? I won't do it again. _I_ _swear_!" Nathan pleaded desperately.

Mark's voice was no longer soft, he could barely contain his irritation any longer and snapped. " _Empty_ promises, Nate! I've had enough of your bullshit! It's about time for you to learn your fucking lesson. _Nobody_ fucks with me! _Nobody_! Do you _understand_?"

Nathan cried, shaking his head frantically. "You _can't_ do this!"

Mark gave him a cruel smile. "Oh, don't worry, _I won't_."

"What? What do you mean by that?" Nathan asked, confusion written all over his face.

" _You_ will be the one to bring Miss Chase here. And _you_ will be the one who conducts the session. I think that's a fitting punishment. Don't you agree?" Mark stated plainly, seeing the horror dawn in Nathan's dark blue eyes.

"B-But..." Nathan stuttered, staring at his mentor in disbelief.

Mark held up a hand to silence him quickly, detecting a sudden stir of Max's body. "We'll continue this discussion later, okay? I'd say it's about time I bring our sleeping beauty here back to her dorm room." Mark announced and slipped his arms under Max to lift her up very slowly, treating her as if she were a fragile glass sculpture.

"I want you to remember that we're _partners_ , Nate. And I need you to get your shit together. So please do yourself a favor and go home now. Get some sleep." Mark proposed, eyeing him one last time and hoping that he wouldn't have to dispose of Nathan sooner than expected. The boy still had his usefulness and he intended to exploit him until he had fully fulfilled his purpose. Besides, there were many advantages by relying on the Prescott family. Wealth and power were always a valuable combination.

"But Vic..." Nathan tried again, begging with tears in his eyes. It was obvious that he couldn't stand the thought of his best friend being framed in the dark room.

Under any other circumstances Mark would have loathed to see his protégé beg like this. It looked pathetic. But this time it gave him a weird sort of satisfaction, thinking that Nathan only reaped what he sowed.

He arched an eyebrow and looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. "Just _look_ at you. You're a _wreck,_ Nate. Get some sleep first, then we'll chat _about_ _Victoria_ as much as you like."

He turned away to leave with Max in his arms, pausing at the exit and reminding his partner. "And please be a good boy and don't forget to clean up the room before you go, okay?"

* * *

It was pitch black outside. The only active source of light was a lamp at Max's desk, illuminating the girl's small dorm room in warm, subdued light. The art teacher sat next to her at the edge of her bed, calmly monitoring the physical condition of his favorite student.

His attentive brown eyes watched the up and down motion of her chest, evenly breathing in and out. Mark felt relieved, her condition was beginning to stabilize. He had even removed the intravenous line and had put a plaster on her arm, covering the tiny spot where he had pricked her vein.

His fingers brushed along her cheek, sensing her warmth underneath his touch. So warm. He bent down and inhaled deeply. The sweet scent of her coconut body lotion mixed with the strawberry shampoo smell of her hair filled his nostrils. Closing his eyes he let himself be filled with her fragrance. His face was so close to hers now that his lips almost touched her cheeks.

' _Such innocent beauty_.' Mark thought and slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away while his eyes never left her face, seemingly mesmerized by her mere presence.

Mark had almost lost his muse tonight. The thought of Nathan nearly depriving him of his student was unbearable. It showed him once again that you only realize what you have, when it's taken away from you. When you fear to lose what's precious and dear to you.

There was no denying that he had grown quite attached to Max, that this young woman occupied his thoughts each and every day.

Max was the complete opposite of him. She was young, pure, naive and possessed that spark of childlike innocence that was forever lost to him. The world had turned all adults into bitter, cynical and impure people, including him. That was the reason why he was so enamored with her, why she fascinated him so much. She represented everything he was not. Something unattainable, something untouchably captivating that you should only admire from afar. Max was his perfect inspiration.

Every time he discovered tiny little details about her which made him treasure her more. The way her face lit up when she looked at her own polaroid pictures. Or the shine in her beautiful blue eyes whenever she held a camera in her hands. That enticing and genuine smile of hers which always made him smile in return. He had to admit that he got accustomed to being around her. There was finally someone in his life who could put an end to this loneliness he felt. Someone who could understand him and share his dark obsession.

For a moment he regretted the fact that he didn't have his camera with him. How he would have loved to take pictures of her sleeping form. But it wouldn't be much longer now. His time would surely come. Max would soon be his. She would stare at her own reflection of his camera lens, allowing him to capture her soul and humble elegance in his art forever, to create exceptional images which would last for eternity.

To see her in this state, like one of his unconscious models, lying utterly open beneath him and being completely at his mercy was a rare sight to behold. A sight that exhilarated the art teacher. Something inside him was swelling, like electricity bursting through his insides, reaching and shaking the core of his body. This pull towards Max was like gravity having a hold on him, lifting his world off its hinges. He took her hand in his, stroking the palm of her hand in a gentle manner.

"You're _safe_ now, Max No one will ever hurt you again." Mark whispered softly and glanced at his watch now. It was almost 4 am. Chances were high that Max could wake up any minute now.

* * *

Consciousness swam back into her. Her eyes fluttered open to find herself resting on her own bed. The throbbing ache in her head was only slowly retreating. Max shifted to the side groggily. All of a sudden her blue eyes went wide in surprise as she spotted her teacher Mark Jefferson, sitting right next to her.

' _What's Mark doing here? In my room of all things?_ ' She wondered but was also too tired to feel the usual nervousness in his presence.

Her head was spinning as she tried to organize her thoughts. "Mark?"

Mark hushed her, his calm voice trying to soothe her. "Shh, calm down. You're okay, you're _safe_. Everything's alright."

Unanswered questions occupied her mind and she didn't even know where to begin. It was also difficult to concentrate when she felt this awful. Her entire body felt heavy as lead.

"How did you...?" Max croaked, her throat raw and dry as though she had been lying here for days.

"I went back to Blackwell to fetch some text books and that's when I found you. You were lying outside on a bench in the middle of the night. I deemed it best to bring you back to your room." Mark informed her with a worried expression on his face.

Max licked her dry lips, being more confused than before. "I don't understand."

"You were unconscious, Max. Do you remember _anything_? Did you fall asleep outside?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

She shook her head, murmuring. "I don't think I remember..." Suddenly, she looked up at him in shock. "Wait a sec, I _remember_ something. I was at the bicycle parking area and s-someone _attacked_ me."

His expression became very grim. "Someone _attacked_ you? Are you _sure_ , Max?"

Max lifted her hand to touch the back of her head. "Something hard hit me right _here_."

"Wait, let me see." Mark shifted his weight on the bed and came closer. His observant dark eyes examined the spot and he confirmed her suspicion. "Yes, there's definitely a swelling. Do you have any idea who did this?"

Max furrowed her brows, trying her best to remember every single detail. A single image came back to her mind. The sight of a brown leather sneakers pair. She had seen these shoes before. And then it began to dawn on her. Max _recognized_ these sneakers. They belonged to none other than Nathan Prescott.

"It was _Nathan_." Max stated finally, certainty in her voice.

He gave her a stern look, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "That's a serious accusation, Max. Are you sure it was him? It's also possible that one of our Bigfoot football jocks accidentally hit you during training. Just look at Alyssa. She told me a football has hit her a couple of times."

Max felt disappointed that Mark didn't believe her. Was it that far-fetched to think that Nathan Prescott would be capable to do such a thing? She knew that Nathan hated her after getting in his way to protect her friend Kate. It would make perfect sense if he'd want revenge.

Max sighed, murmuring in frustration. "Don't you believe me? It's the truth, I'm not making this up. I _saw_ Nathan's shoes. He was right in _front_ of me."

"I believe you, Max. But it's difficult to go against Nathan without any solid proof." Mark made clear.

" _Proof_? Isn't my head injury proof enough?" Max asked, finding it unfair that she could do absolutely nothing as long as Nathan Prescott was involved. As if everyone who bore the Prescott name was considered untouchable in Arcadia Bay.

Mark leveled his eyes with hers and reminded her. "Look, Max. It's not my intent to discourage you here. But do you remember the last time you went to Principal Wells' office to accuse Nathan? We need witnesses or it'll be your word against Nathan's again. And we both know that Principal Wells won't act without evidence."

"I've met Daniel DaCosta on my way to the parking area. Maybe he saw something." Max suggested, already hoping that Daniel glimpsed Nathan Prescott following after her. He could be the important witness she needed so badly to prove the attack.

"You should ask him then. It's definitely worth a shot. Do you remember _anything_ _else_?" His penetrating brown eyes were studying her face intently as if he was somehow aware that she was holding back information.

Max didn't want to tell him everything. The images in her mind were still hazy but she knew without a doubt that Nathan had drugged her. She shuddered at the mere memory of the sharp pain as a needle slid into her neck. It also scared her to find out what he might have done to her while she was out cold.

"No, I totally blacked out and after that my mind went blank." Max told him and avoided his searching eyes, choosing to hide the truth for now.

All this talk about what happened to her made her feel agitated. She used all of her remaining strength to sit upright on her bed now. The effort alone made her heart race and for a second Max worried she was going to throw up. Her arms and legs felt as if heavy weights were tied to them.

Mark put his arm around her shoulder to steady and support her, advising her. "It's probably better if you try to get some rest first."

He stood up and brought her a bottle of water. Max thanked him and was so thirsty that she took a big gulp, asking in a curious voice. "How did you even manage to bring me back here? How did you know my room number?"

Mark chuckled, seemingly amused. "Don't you think I can read a floor map? Besides, I've gained a lot of experience sneaking out of my own office lately. Sneaking inside the girl's dormitory was actually a breeze for me. Speaking of which..." He glanced at his watch and added. "I think I should go now. I'd probably get in trouble if your neighbors would see me walking out of your room at this early hour. It's in both of our interests to avoid unnecessary gossip, right?"

Max only nodded at that and allowed him to help her get down on her bed again. Mark brushed some strands of brown hair out of her face and gave her a quick peck on her forehead, whispering. "I have to say I really like your room. Especially your photo wall here is a wonderful idea. This is a perfect display of your work. The work of a brilliant and creative mind."

Her ears and cheeks felt incredibly hot hearing his compliment. She muttered shyly. "I-It's just my Max Caulfield photo memorial wall. It's really nothing special."

Her teacher smirked. "As always, you're too modest, Max. I truly think it's _special_. Anyway," He took a card out of his suit jacket's chest pocket and placed it on the table. "I leave my business card here. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to call me, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Mark."

Mark gave her a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me, Max. You know I'll always be there for you. If you're feeling any better, try to walk a bit to get your blood circulation going. And you should definitely pay a visit to Nurse Barenchi and get a check-up."

Max smiled weakly, murmuring. "I think I just stay here and get some sleep. My body feels like I've been hit by a truck."

"That's understandable. Take all the time you need and don't forget..." He took out his cellphone and tapped its surface with his finger, "to call, okay?"

Max rolled her eyes, thinking to herself that Mark worried too much about her. "I won't forget, promise."

"I wish you a speedy recovery, Max. After all, we both still have a photo session together soon. Don't you forget that." He winked at her and said good-bye, leaving Max alone.

Silence returned, and with it her anxiousness. Her mind was now exposed to a torrent of her own incoherent thoughts. And the biggest worry that stood out the most was Nathan Prescott. Why did Nathan assault her? How could she prove to Principal Wells that it had been him? Would he even believe her or would he think that she's a liar? Should she say something, even without solid proof? Or should she better keep quiet about that event? Was Nathan even behind that attack or was this someone else? Was Blackwell Academy a school where she still felt safe? Should she leave? Or stay?

So many questions and Max already had headaches just contemplating them all, knowing she wouldn't find any answers here.

* * *

Sleeping was a necessity to recover her strength. However, for Max it was impossible to close her eyes. Her mind was restless, working like a relentless clockwork. Hours went by and she just stared up at the white ceiling, unable to find any sleep, even if she tried and wanted to. Later her fatigue became so strong that she was somehow able to snooze a little bit. Although that didn't make up for taking a real nap. A glimpse at the mirror confirmed her worry. She looked liked a zombie straight out of a survival horror movie.

Her face was pale and her expression was tired. Her blue eyes were red, due to the lack of sleep. And all her muscles hurt like hell. As if she had been staying in an uncomfortable position for too long that her whole body felt sore.

Max forced herself to take a warm shower and eat some sandwiches. It was early in the afternoon. Feeling somewhat strong enough she managed to drag her exhausted body to the nurse office. However, the check-up didn't really help to receive any new information. According to Mrs. Barenchi her swelling was a concussion damage and the blood test results didn't show any signs of drugs in her blood either. The only reasonable explanation could be that the substances had already been absorbed by her body.

She had put all her hopes on Daniel now, only to experience her next disappointment. Daniel didn't see anyone going after her. Her hope went immediately down the drain, becoming aware that her chances to accuse Nathan appeared to be rather slim now without having a witness to back her up.

Although the whole world seemed to have turned against her, Max refused to give up so easily or let these setbacks get her down.

Mark had advised her to find solid proof first before talking to Principal Wells but Max had become impatient. She couldn't wait any longer. She had to go there. Her fear of Nathan Prescott pushed and drove her forward. To stop now was no longer an option for her.

Max went straight to the principal's office and suddenly stopped in her tracks when she spotted Principal Wells standing in front of his door, watching the students leave the building with a strict expression on his face. The idea to approach Wells didn't look so appealing anymore. As if her courage had deserted her just by seeing the principal and remembering the last course of their conversation.

' _I can't do this. He won't believe me. I know it._ ' Max thought and tried to hide between a group of other students to get out unnoticed.

"Miss Caulfield, can I please have a moment of your time?" He asked in his deep voice and Max ducked her head instinctively as he called her out.

"Uh, yes?"

His black eyes seemed to watch her closely. "You look a little stressed out. Are you okay?"

"I-I was at Nurse Barenchi's office. I have a strong headache." Max replied quickly, hoping he would just leave her alone soon.

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, apparently not convinced by her answer. "A strong headache? Are you sure you didn't make this headache up just to skip classes, hm?"

Max sighed, thinking. ' _I hate this man. How can he even think I'd do something like that?_ ' She decided to give him Mrs. Barenchi's report on her injury, just to see that dumb look on his surprised face.

Principal Wells skimmed through the pages and paused several times to reread certain passages of the report. He then looked up at her again and wanted to know. "Your injury. You stated here you were attacked? By _whom_?"

Max grimaced. "Even if I'd tell you, you wouldn't believe me anyway."

The tall man's face hardened, impatience in his tone as he demanded to know. "An attack happened here at Blackwell. And this is something that should never happen in a hall of wisdom and knowledge. As principal of this school I think I have every right to know the details, Ms. Caulfield."

Max couldn't stand his searching gaze any longer, thinking. ' _Damn it all, I don't care anymore. Just tell him, Max! Get it over and done with!_ '

"It was _Nathan Prescott_." Max finally blurted out, telling herself that she had to tell him the truth. Maybe this was the only way to protect herself, or other students from Nathan.

Principal Wells scowled. "This is a serious charge. Mr. Prescott is one of our most honored students and it's hard for me to believe he would hurt someone."

"Like he didn't want to hurt Kate? Or me?" Max asked in a challenging tone.

"We've had this conversation before, Ms. Caulfield. And if I remember correctly, there was no evidence that Mr. Prescott did anything wrong. Now you're accusing him again and I have to look into the matter and question him. Again. I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth. Because a false statement can be regarded as slander and it might have undesirable consequences for you. Do you _understand_?" Principal Wells asked, a hint of a threat in his voice now.

Max frowned. "I understand that, Principal Wells. But I have to ask in return, how can you ensure that Nathan tells _you_ the _truth_?"

His black eyes narrowed slightly as he told her. "Let _me_ worry about that. And as for you, I want you to reconsider your statement very carefully, Ms. Caulfield. I'm sure you don't want to lose your Blackwell scholarship. So please keep in mind that such an injury can also happen by stumbling and falling down to the ground by accident. Am I right?

' _Oh great. Now he's threatening me to take away my scholarship? What kind of sick joke is this?_ ' She asked herself in her thoughts and tried to remain calm. Getting angry now wouldn't help her here.

Max chose to overlook his threat and reminded him instead. "I'll reconsider my statement but I'll hope you also talk to Nathan. I'm scared and I don't feel safe at Blackwell anymore."

"I take my duties as principal of Blackwell Academy seriously and I take the well-being of every student even more seriously. Rest assured that I'll look into this matter. Not long ago our chief of security, Mr. Madsen asked me to install a surveillance camera system. This might be a good opportunity to bring Mr. Madsen's request to everyone's attention at the next faculty meeting. That would be all for now, Ms. Caulfield. You may leave." With that Principal Wells dismissed her and went back to his office, ending all further discussion.

' _That didn't really go so well now. Did it?_ ' Max thought with a sigh and headed for the bicycle area. She wanted to leave as fast as she could, needing some personal time to deal with her own frustration.

As Max pushed her red bike to the street, she encountered Warren who grinned like an idiot.

"Whoa, Mad Max! What happened to you? That zombie look is _frightening_." Warren noted, pointing a finger at her.

Max smirked. "Well, I'm already practicing for Dana's Halloween party. I need to perfect my zombie face."

"Igor, _look_! The creature... it's _alive_!" Warren said in his funny, raspy Frankenstein voice imitation, gesturing with his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Max rolled her eyes at that. "Ha ha, very funny, Warren. I still think Kenneth Branagh gave a better performance as Dr. Frankenstein as you."

Warren shrugged. "Well, he's an actor and gets paid for that stuff. I'm just doing it for fun. But seriously, Max," his facial expression became worried, "Are you really okay? You look horrible."

Max tried to play it down, not wanting her friend to worry too much about her. "I'm okay. I just ran into the usual trouble with Nathan Prescott and had a conversation with Principal Wells who won't believe me. Just another shitty day at Blackhell Academy, you know?"

"Nathan Prescott? _Again_? Shit, I can't believe it! Just tell me if you need any help, okay? I'll punch that damn rich kid like Balboa beat Apollo Creed in the first Rocky movie. I swear!" Warren offered and already cracked his fingers.

She shook her head, telling him. "No, please, don't hurt him. We're not the Prescotts and we won't sink down to their level."

"Man, I'd still want to hit that bastard. Anyway, want to go somewhere and blow off some steam?" He asked, giving her an expectant look.

"No, thanks. That's really nice of you but I'd like to be alone now." Max murmured and looked down at her road racer.

Warren seemed disappointed but he tried his best not to let it show. "No problem. Just promise to text me if you want to hang out later, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I will. See you later, Warren." Max said good-bye and got onto her bike. Her destination was the small hilltop from where she could enjoy a spectacular view over Arcadia Bay and the sea.

* * *

Max immediately regretted her idea to drive up to the hill in her weak condition. Every muscle hurt and burned like hell, her legs feeling so heavy that she had the impression to ride slower than usual. Cold sweat ran down her forehead and she was panting heavily, yet still she refused to give up.

For Max it felt like a test to overcome her own worries and fears. She wanted to get Nathan out of her head, to feel safe and strong again. In her mind she recalled the cyclists of the Tour de France. The assistants who pulled their aces up the mountains with every ounce of strength left in their bodies. Just one time Max wanted to feel like them too. To feel a sense of accomplishment if she managed to ride up that steep slope. Her goal was to reach the top. Nothing else mattered anymore. If she could do this, she was sure she'd overcome any other obstacle blocking her path. Obstacles like Nathan, Victoria or Principal Wells who always seemed to stand in her way.

However, luck wasn't on her side today as she noticed several raindrops on her sweating arms now.

' _Rain? Great, that's just what I needed._ ' She thought with a grimace and continued to ascend, pushing her own exhausted body to the limits.

Max was so concentrated on climbing up that slope, that she didn't register the dark sedan coming up behind her.

The car drove forward to be right next to her. The window opened automatically and Mr. Jefferson's deep voice startled her, pulling her out of her trance. "Max, what are you doing out here? It's _raining_! You're going to catch a cold."

Max raised her hand to wipe her forehead and glanced at him. "I'm okay, really. Could you please go? I just want to be alone now."

"I can't leave you like that." Mark said flatly and reached out with his hand to grab her bike by the handlebar.

"Let go! I only want to go up that slope, that's all!" Max insisted, trying to pull her road racer away from him but it was impossible. His hand held the handlebar in a tight grip.

"Don't be stupid, Max. You're in no condition to drive around here. Come on, let's get you in my car and I bring you back to Blackwell." Mark offered, using his firm teacher voice that allowed no argument.

The young woman didn't know why but she felt stubborn and also annoyed. Max knew that Mark Jefferson was only worried about her but she hated it. She didn't want to be treated like a child. Her life was going down the drain right now and just for once she wanted to take the reins, to feel some kind of control again. Even if that behavior seemed childish and irrational, she didn't care.

Max snapped at him. "I know you want to help me but you're not my dad, Mark. Please, _leave me alone_!"

"I can't!" He spoke firmly and hit the brake, stopping Max from riding up any further.

"Why did you do that?" Max asked, leaning over her bike and gasping for breath.

Mark exited his car and took off his black suit jacket, wrapping it around her wet body. "I had to. Do you really think I'd let you ride your bike in the state you're in? I've told you to get some _rest_."

Max let her head sink in defeat, feeling her resolve starting to break. She was angry and tired. A bad combination. "Honestly, I really had a shitty day and I just wanted to get away and clear my head." Max explained, hoping he would understand her somehow.

"I know. Principal Wells told me about your conversation." He sighed, "I've assumed we'd do this together. Why didn't you contact me?"

' _Oh, why don't you go and ask Chloe? Calling someone back is something I rarely do._ ' She thought bitterly, pulling his jacket closer to her to feel warmth again.

"The last time you wanted to help me it didn't really change anything. No offense, Mark, but this time I wanted to do it alone." Max replied and quickly gazed down, already feeling the tears in her eyes. Yes, she knew she was stubborn. But she couldn't help it. Her fear and impatience brought her to this point, trying to solve her damn problems on her own.

He came closer and shushed her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay, Max. I know how you feel and believe me, I can understand your frustration. If I had been in your situation, I might have done the same."

Hearing his words, she looked up at him again and saw the sympathy in his eyes. In that one moment she took a step forward and hugged him without thinking twice, feeling a sudden desperate need to have somebody to hold on to. Somebody to make her feel safe and someone she could depend on. Max rested her body against his and felt his arms tightening around her, holding her close to him.

It all felt so familiar. As if she could forget all her worries for a while and seek comfort in his warm embrace alone, inhaling the scent of his cologne and feeling his hands rubbing her back consolingly.

Mark's right hand traveled over her jawline, holding her chin between forefinger and thumb as he tilted her face upward, his brown eyes staring into her blue ones. Max couldn't help but smile at him and leaned slightly forward to kiss his lips tentatively, allowing herself a single moment to show him how she truly felt.

When she ended the kiss, an uncomfortable silence settled between them. For a few seconds Mark just watched her with an unreadable expression on his face and then, without warning, he released his hold and spun her around so that Max's back pressed against the side of his car now.

The sudden motion startled her and Mark seized this opportunity and leaned down to claim her lips, sliding his hand from her chin to cup her cheek tenderly. Max was lost in her own sensations. Every slow torturous brush of his soft lips resonated through her entire body, radiating warmth into every cell. An unbearable heat began to burn her from the inside as if she was being swallowed by fire. Her body reacted to his touch, feeling his lips on hers, his hand sliding down her back very slowly and his body melting to hers with ease.

Max gasped as he broke the kiss and ran his lips down her neck, nipping sharply at her collarbone. She could feel him smile against her sensitive skin, whispering in a soft, seductive voice. "I don't think you realize how _beautiful_ you are, Max. And just how much you ought to be _worshipped_."

Hearing his compliment made her cheeks tint red and raised goosebumps all over her skin. How was he always able to make her feel so special and desired? But he didn't give her any time to contemplate that question as his face came up again, pausing a moment to gaze at her with an odd gleam in his brown eyes. Max couldn't really decide what she saw there. Was it impatience? Hunger? Desire?

Once again she was unable to think clearly when his lips found hers again, this time deepening the kiss. Max felt his hot tongue enter her, beginning to explore her mouth as her hands gripped his white shirt. The feeling was so overwhelming that she wondered how her heart could even continue to beat. Mark consumed her greedily and Max found herself surrendering to him, giving in to him bit by bit. The way he dominated her arose a twinge of arousal in the pit of her stomach. This sensation was entirely new to her. And it was exciting to discover a part of him she never knew before. A darker part. As if he had allowed his mask of composure to slip to reveal another side of him.

Max felt incredibly hot and slightly dizzy now, withdrawing from him to catch her breath. Mark smirked, his fingertips gently brushed over her warm cheeks and he murmured in a soft, thoughtful tone. "It's such a shame that I left my camera in my car. I would have loved to take a photo of you now."

She laughed nervously, recalling his number one rule. " _Always take the shot_ , right?"

Mark chuckled softly and winked at her, "Exactly, Max. That's _my_ student." He looked at his watch and suggested, "I think it's time to go back to Blackwell Academy now. It's getting late."

"Only if you make a short detour to the hilltop. I'd like to take some pictures there." Max insisted, smiling.

Mark smiled in return, seemingly amused. "Oh, you got me, Max. How can I deny that face?"


	10. Chapter 9: Face your fear

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N:** As always thanks to everyone for reading and following this story. It's really very much appreciated. A special thank you goes to lunamoon531, tur1823, Gamergurl23, Xander The Prince, ambernass25 and mrsvandebilt for taking the time and leaving a review. It's such a kick to know people are really getting into this story and enjoy reading it. You guys are awesome. :)_

 **Chapter 9: Face your fear**

Thick, gray clouds covered the dark sky. It was already early evening and the staff parking lot was mostly empty. The only cars left were the ones from Principal Wells and Mr. David Madsen. Mark Jefferson chose to park his sedan near the exit to the main street and turned off the engine.

A momentary silence engulfed the car, only softly punctured by the comforting sound of raindrops hitting the windows panes. The heater was blasting hot air directly at Max's upper body, spending warmth and drying up her wet clothes. It was almost too warm for her taste but she didn't really mind the heat. The young student was somewhere else again as she just gazed out of the side window, being completely absorbed by her own thoughts. So much had happened today that she felt the need to get some rest and to have enough personal time for herself to reflect upon everything.

Mark seemed to be aware of the chaos inside her mind and gave her the time she needed to collect herself.

He released his belt bucket quietly and shifted in his seat, his brown eyes glancing at his student next to him.

The silence continued for a few long seconds before he finally decided to break the silence, talking to her with a concerned expression on his face. "I know much has happened, Max. It must be overwhelming for you but I hope you're okay."

Max only nodded in response and Mark held out a hand and offered. "If there's anything you need..."

"It's alright, really. I probably just need some time to rest, that's all." Max quickly said and eyed the path that led straight to the bicycle parking area now. There was instantly a queasy feeling in her stomach as if she had this hunch that Nathan might hurt her again at that exact same place. For a moment she wished that she possessed the ability to teleport to her dorm room to enter a safe space again.

Maybe she was becoming paranoid now, worrying that Nathan could hide and lurk around every corner to ambush her. Her mind began to conjure the weirdest images. Nathan laughing and staring down at her with a crazy grin on his face. A needle coming closer and closer right in front of her, aiming to pierce her eye. A feeling of helplessness and horror as she watched pale hands grab her roughly, enclosing around her like claws, lifting her unconscious body and carrying her to a place of cold, absolute darkness.

' _Please beam me up, Scotty. Now!_ ' Max thought, her blue eyes scanning the whole campus area warily.

"Are you _afraid_? _Afraid_ of _Nathan_?" Mark wanted to know. It didn't sound like a question and more like a statement in her ears.

She let out a heavy sigh, mumbling very quietly. "To tell you the truth, I don't feel safe here anymore. What if Nathan plans to attack me again?"

"I seriously doubt Mr. Prescott would be so foolish to even try that. And Ray, Principal Wells assured me that our Mr. Madsen will keep an eye on him from now on. He'll become his watchdog and will follow Nathan wherever he goes. There's really no need to worry." Mark reassured her, obviously trying to ease her fears.

' _That won't hold Nathan back. It's just a pointless endeavor._ ' Max thought and gave him a faint smile. "Well, I know Mr. Madsen is our chief of security but he can't observe Nathan around the clock. That's impossible."

"You're right. And that's the reason why Principal Wells is also quite eager to install those surveillance cameras here." Mark reminded her and remarked with a smirk, "Although I have to say Mrs. Grant isn't really fond of that idea. She thinks it might turn Blackwell into a high security penitentiary."

"Mrs. Grant has a point there." Max commented dryly and gazed down at her lap, fiddling with her own fingers in a nervous manner and admitting to him. "It might sound stupid but I'm scared out of my pants whenever I come across Nathan now. Sometimes it's gotten so bad that I just want to lock myself inside the girl's bathroom and never come out again. So I was thinking that maybe... maybe it might be best if I leave Blackwell and go back to Seattle."

Mark Jefferson stared at her in surprise as if he never expected that she would even consider such a rash decision. He hesitated for a few seconds, pursing his lips and trying to measure his next words very carefully. "You're thinking about _leaving_ , Max? You would give up that once in a lifetime opportunity to study art here at Blackwell Academy which offers one of the best photography programs in the world? All because _of Nathan_?"

Max narrowed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath, resignation in her voice. "After talking to Principal Wells it became clear to me that I _can't_ really _change_ anything. Not without _any proof_."

A strange gleam appeared in her teacher's brown eyes as he stated in a calm tone. "That's _not_ you, Max. I know you're a _fighter_ and I can't believe you'd give up so easily. Turning your back on Blackwell is like admitting defeat. Do you want _that_? Do you really want Nathan to _win_?"

Her nostrils flared and her hands instinctively curled into tight fists. Anger welled up inside her as her gaze returned to him, snapping back. "No, of course not but..."

Max hated this because she felt uncomfortable talking about Nathan Prescott yet Mark continued to pressure her. His whole body seemed tense as he took her hand in his, his brown intense eyes were boring into her blue ones, searching for an answer. "Please, you have to tell me, Max! What did Nathan do? He didn't just hit you on the head, didn't he?"

There was a long pause now. Max's eyes fell shut and her brows furrowed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. It was painful to think or even worse to talk about this and she couldn't stop herself from trembling and shuddering at her own memory. "I-I don't think you'd believe me..."

"Shh, don't worry. I know Nathan is a..., well, let's say he's a complicated and troubled young student. So _whatever_ he did to you, I _believe_ you, Max." He made clear, his silken voice sounding so soft, covering her anxiety and calming her like a blanket wrapped around her body.

Max felt herself loosen up a little and took a deep breath, composing herself to go on. "After I've been hit on my head, there was something odd. I felt a sharp sting at my neck and I'm not really one hundred percent sure but I-I think, I-I assume... h-he drugged me. Although I-I can't prove it. Nurse Barenchi's blood test result didn't show any drug substances in my blood."

The tension in his body was slowly subsiding and his facial expression softened visibly. His right hand began to stroke over hers comfortingly as he questioned her in a curious tone. "Did you _tell_ Principal Wells that Nathan might have drugged you?"

"O-Of course not! Principal Wells is clearly on Nathan's side and he wouldn't believe anything I say." Max replied quickly, all her frustration apparent in her voice.

For a moment Mark became silent as if he was contemplating her answer. Then his focus shifted back to her and he spoke soothingly. "I'm sorry that you had to experience such an awful event and I can understand how you feel. But I don't think that running away from Nathan will solve your problems, Max. Believe me, I can speak from personal experience that it might make it even _worse_."

Max looked up at him, hoping her teacher could help her somehow although a part of her didn't want to hear what he had to say. She wanted nothing more than to hide herself away and to avoid any further conflict.

Leaving everything behind and shutting herself off had worked when William Price died. She didn't answer Chloe's calls or letters and thought it was best to let the dust settle on this tragedy, to wait for her best friend to recover on her own. In her heart Max knew that this approach was wrong, yet she was unable to act differently. The loss of a family member, especially a father was devastating and very painful. The sheer thought to go through the same situation as Chloe was unimaginable to her. There was nothing she could do or say to help or make her best friend feel any better.

' _Mark is wrong. I'm not a fighter. I'm just a coward and steering clear of my problems is my specialty_.' She thought bitterly.

Still, her own frustration and anger was so great that it prevented her from taking the cowardly action. If there was a way out of this mess, she needed to know how.

"What should I _do_ now?" She asked and looked at him with pleading eyes as if he was her savior, her light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. The only one who could guide her and give her strength.

"You have to _face_ your _fears_ , Max. I know you're scared but you can't let your fears determine and dominate your life. It's an important part of growing up to go out there and to overcome any obstacle blocking your path. Even if this hurdle is the son of the great Sean Prescott. You must stay strong."

Max turned away from him and averted her eyes. Staying strong is easier said than done. After everything that had happened she felt tired, exhausted and drained. Was this a fight she still hoped to win? Max sank back into the passenger seat and let her shoulders slump in defeat. She allowed her walls to come down, revealing her vulnerability and anxiety for Mark to bare witness to.

"I-I don't think I can..." She stammered in an unsure, quiet voice and felt the tears welling in her eyes.

Mark placed his hands on her cheeks and forced her to look into his brown eyes as he assured her. "Yes, you _can_ , Max. _Trust me_ , it'll be okay. You know I'm always with you. You're _not_ _alone_ in this."

His large, warm hands on her skin made her feel secure. The gesture alone was so intimate that Max had the impression for a moment that time seemed to stand still. Max felt like a lost and scared soul recently and only Mark was able to shelter her from all her problems which plagued her mind. It was clear that her chances to accuse Nathan were still very slim and she was slowly running out of options.

Not understanding how Mark intended to help her she frowned, asking him. "But _how_? There's nothing we can do."

His hands slid from her cheeks to her shoulders, holding her steady and telling her in a relaxed tone. "Let me be the one to worry about that, okay? I'll look into this matter and I will help you as much as I can. And you'll promise me to get some rest. No more bicycle riding in the rain today. _Promise_ me that, Max."

Mark's face was close to her own now, his lips forming a warm smile. It was a smile that radiated warmth and gave her hope.

Max couldn't help but stare at him, remembering that familiar feel of being in his arms. That intimate feeling to be safe and protected in his tight embrace. If there was anyone at Blackwell who could really help her and sort out this mess for her, it was Mark Jefferson. Her teacher was the only one she could trust and rely on here. It didn't really get her anywhere to attempt doing this on her own. This time she would seek his support.

Max smiled tiredly in return, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Yes, yes, alright. I hereby promise I'll leave my road racer alone and head straight for my bed. Happy now?"

Mark's face lit up and his hands moved down her shoulders, sliding down to her arms until he held her hands in his. His thumbs brushed tenderly over her smooth skin as he promised her. "Thank you, Max. You'll _see_ , tomorrow will be a _new_ day, a _better_ day."

Max furrowed her brows, wondering what he was hinting at and if he knew something she wasn't aware of, asking him. "How do you know it'll become _better_?"

A mysterious smirk appeared on his lips and he held her gaze in an irresistible grip with his own brown eyes. "Trust me. It's something I _know_."

Max was unable to look away from those eyes. Immediate heat flushed her cheeks and her pulse quickened as she felt her own blood rush through her veins. This was what Mark Jefferson did do her just by looking at her like this.

As if reading her thoughts he continued to watch her, mustering her with an amused expression on his face. His eyes were slowly wandering over her body, knowing without a doubt how that look made her feel.

Max became extremely nervous and swallowed hard. The sudden image of kissing Mark Jefferson in front of his car emerged in her inner mind's eye. She recalled everything. That one single moment when her lips touched his. In that one particular moment the contact had been like electricity, like a spark igniting something deep within her. She also remembered the ticklish sensation as his goatee scratched over the sensitive skin around her mouth. Or she recollected the scent of his sandalwood cologne invading her nose or the sound of pattering rain in her ears. The memory was so vivid in her mind as if it had just happened a few minutes ago.

' _Okay, there's no going back now, Super Max. You kissed Mark Jefferson. Your photography teacher. We could both get into major trouble if this goes on like that. Mark could even lose his job. But... wowsers, I know it's wrong and no one will understand this but still... that kiss felt so good. Even if I had the power to travel back in time, I wouldn't change a single thing._ ' Max thought, knowing that she didn't really have any control over her own emotions. Her heart overrode her mind and she had just kissed him without bearing the implications in mind.

"Are you okay, Max? You look a bit pale. I hope you're not becoming sick." Mark inquired, worry audible in his voice.

"I'm okay. It's just that I...", Max murmured and paused, as if she needed to gather all her courage to say it out loud, "I-I _kissed_ you back there." Now she had finally let the cat out of the bag, staring down at her sweating hands, noticing that her fingers were still interlaced with his.

Mark chuckled lightly, amusement coloring his tone. "Yes indeed, _you did_. And I've returned the favor and kissed you too, haven't I?"

"But... you're _my teacher_ , and I am..." Max mumbled and Mark added, "You're _my student_. I _know_ , Max."

He leaned in closer and tilted her face up with his right hand so that he could stare directly into her beautiful blue eyes. "I told you that I'm _drawn_ to you. I know it's inappropriate but I can't change the way I feel about you."

Max felt her heart flutter the moment she heard his words and breathed in return. "I also can't change my feelings. Honestly, I've never felt anything like this before. And it kinda scares me."

"Don't be scared, Max. Believe me, I know how you feel. It's terrifying, isn't it? To share this intimacy and to see the lines between us blurring. It must be confusing for you right now and I know all these feelings can be quite overwhelming. Especially if you experience them for the first time. Don't worry. There's really no need to rush things. I won't coerce you or do anything you don't want. Let's take our time and figure this out _together_ , okay?" Mark whispered softly and his face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her skin again, sending a shiver down her spine.

This physical closeness caused her whole body to tense up and she became incredibly flustered.

' _You've been together with him all the time, Max. Damn it, it's ridiculous. Why am I still so nervous around him?_ ' Max asked herself in her thoughts.

As her eyes met his, a burning question gnawed at her mind. ' _I don't understand this._ _Why is Mark still single? He's charming and very attractive and he could be with every woman he desired. Why is a man like him even interested in a loser like me? I'm nothing special and he could be together with someone else... someone better... someone like Victoria Chase._ ' Her damn inferiority complex raised all her doubts again, making her feel small and insignificant.

"I have this feeling you know _everything_ about me while I know practically _nothing_ about you, Mark. I always wondered, why isn't there a Mrs. Jefferson in your life?" The question left her lips so quickly that her blunt way of asking embarrassed her a little, seeing Mark raising an eyebrow.

' _Way to go, Sherlock. Why am I always so goddamn curious?_ ' She admonished herself, instinctively biting her lower lip.

Max stammered. "I-I'm so sorry for being so straightforward. That's not..."

A chuckle escaped his lips and he held up a hand. "It's okay, Max. Actually, my friends often ask me the _same_ question too."

He looked away for a long moment to gaze out of the front window, his voice very thoughtful as he responded. "I must confess I'm a terrible workaholic and photography always comes first and also consumes a lot of my time. Sadly, most women can't understand my obsession with my work or maybe, they don't want to comprehend it. It's hard to say. Either way, I've met many in my life who only saw the fame behind my big name without ever looking at the _real me_ , the _real_ Mark Jefferson. I was always trying to find a kindred spirit in my line of work but unfortunately the photography world is a contrived place full of liars and bootlickers. It's a cruel business that often lacks honesty which makes it difficult to search for a like-minded partner."

Mark fixed her with his eyes again. "Trust me, Max, I would _love_ to have someone by my side but the opportunity never presented itself up to _now_."

Max gulped and didn't miss his subtle cue in his words, murmuring. "I-I see."

"But enough about me. I also have a question for you too."

"Uh, me?" Max blinked nervously.

He rubbed his beard and looked at her in an unfamiliar way. "I sometimes see you hanging out with your classmate. I believe his name is Warren. Warren Graham, right?"

Max nodded. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Is he your boyfriend?" Mark wanted to know.

"My... _boyfriend_? Oh, no. We're just friends, that's all." Max made clear, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"He's not..." Mark repeated, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. He seemed to relax in his seat and went on, "Are you sure, Max? I've seen the way he looks at you. It's fairly obvious that this boy is _in love_ with you."

Max couldn't believe that she was having this kind of conversation with him right now and she stammered in return. "I-I know he's interested in me but I-I only see him as a good _friend_. That's all."

His expression softened as he told her. "You should tell him that, Max. He needs to know."

"I-I will. I'm just waiting for the right moment." Max assured him although she knew deep down it wasn't so easy. She didn't want to hurt anyone. That was also the reason why she still hadn't contacted Chloe yet, fearing how her best friend might react.

"Max, don't wait too long. It'll only be more painful if you leave him in uncertainty like that."

Max nodded, not able to say another word. To have this conversation with Mark was awkward and she didn't like to be pushed to do something she was delaying for as long as possible.

Her teacher chose to change the topic to draw her mind to other things as he asked her. "Come on, let's get your road racer out of my trunk. You're probably very tired and I don't want to keep you from getting some much needed sleep any longer."

They got out of the car and he took out her bike very carefully. "Do you want me to escort you to your dormitory?" Mark asked while he helped her take off his black suit jacket, throwing it over his shoulder in a casual manner.

Max shook her head and declined firmly. "It's okay, I'll be fine."

She then spotted the small plaster in the crook of her elbow and had this uneasy feeling again, pointing her finger at the spot and murmuring. "I-I don't know if Nathan did this too."

"Ah, that was actually _me_. You were unconscious and I was worried that you had a circulatory collapse yesterday. So I've injected medicine to stabilize your condition." He explained in an apologetic tone.

"Oh, okay." Max blinked a few seconds, wondering for a short moment how Mark could get his hands on such a particular medicine but she felt too tired to give it much thought now.

Mark's eyes flickered to her lips briefly and he noted in a thoughtful tone. "Nothing would please me more than to kiss your lips again, Max. Unfortunately, this school has its eyes everywhere and we have to be careful here. Especially Mr. Madsen is striving to become Blackwell's newest paparazzo. Though I have to say his work lacks the beauty and elegance of a true photographer."

Max laughed nervously. "Surveillance photography isn't meant to have any artistic value, Mark."

Mark leaned forward slightly and brushed some loose strands of brown hair behind her ear with his index finger, saying. "You're right, Max. But you know me. I always seek to find _gifted_ photographers and it's fairly obvious that Mr. Madsen doesn't belong to our illustrious circle. Needless to say I'm also not a fan of his work. Anyway, I really should be going now. See you tomorrow and do get some rest this time, okay?"

Max rolled her eyes at that, thinking that he worried way too much. "I will. And would you please stop worrying so much about me. I'm okay, really."

Mark smirked, "Please forgive me, Max. I know it must be annoying if an old man like me keeps asking you if you're alright and all that." and gave her a wink now, "Oh, and before I forget, just another quick reminder. If there's anything you need, you _have_ my number."

A grin appeared on her face and she saw him smiling in return. It was an infectious smile. A smile that filled her with warmth and gave her a sense of familiarity. As if they shared a special bond and were able to understand one another like no one else.

Max sighed in an exaggerated manner. "Yes, yes, I _know_! Jeez, I swear you're _worse_ than my dad, good night!"

"Good night, Max." There was one last lingering glance before he turned around and went back to his car. Max waited to watch him drive out of the parking lot and waved him goodbye, making her way to the bicycle parking area now and hoping that she wouldn't encounter Nathan Prescott a second time. The first time had already been bad enough in her eyes.

* * *

Bright shades of morning light and the sound of loud giggles disturbed his peaceful sleep. Nathan groaned and shielded his eyes from the sun, being perplexed to find himself lying on Victoria's expensive danish designer bed.

' _What the fuck_!' He couldn't remember how he ended up here. His memory was more than just a little bit fuzzy.

After fucking Wells summoned him to his office yesterday afternoon to interrogate him about that selfie bitch Caulfield, he had hurried back to his dorm room to smoke some weed, trying to cool down again. Soon afterwards Sean called and it was just the usual bullshit. Stupid words he could recite in his sleep because they never changed.

 _What have you done this time, Nathan? After all I did for you, you continue to bring shame to our family name. I want you to remember that you're a member of the Prescott family. It's about time you start to act like one of us. Blah, blah, blah, you're an adult now, get your shit together, blah, blah, blah, I'm very disappointed, blah, blah, blah, fulfill your destiny, blah, blah, blah, I want you to take responsibility and so on._

That was all he could remember because he chose to turn a deaf ear to the rest of Sean's annoying jabbering. It was always the same and his fucking speeches only gave him nothing but painful headaches. Who needs that crap anyway? If he wants to feel like shit, he'd rather swallow some of Frank's colorful pills. At least his stuff gave him a nice high after a long and tiring day. Unlike Sean Prescott who only existed to get on Nathan's nerves all the time.

He could hear Vic's amused laughter. "Oh, _look_ , ladies. Prince Charming finally woke up from his deep slumber to grace us with his presence."

There was this irritating girly laughter again and it hurt his ears. Nathan clutched the side of his head and glared at Victoria's two dumb sidekicks, snapping at them in a loud voice. "Shut your damn mouths! Fuck, if I want to listen to high-pitched giggles I visit chimpanzees in a fucking zoo. _Go away_ , I don't need that shit right now!"

Courtney and Taylor seemed offended by his sudden outburst and didn't dare to utter another word or even look in his direction.

Victoria sighed. "It seems someone didn't get enough sleep here. Well, whatever. We'll discuss our Vortex club preparations another time, okay, girls? And don't forget to take care of the decoration stuff. We don't want to lose against Dana's Halloween party. Right?"

Courtney nodded, taking her pen and quickly scribbling in her notebook, explaining in a busy tone. "I'll handle the guest list and Taylor thinks about our decoration."

Nathan watched Victoria sending her two minions out of her room, shouting after them. "Move your asses and don't forget my essay for Mr. Jefferson's class!"

She shut the door behind her and took a seat at her desk, complaining loudly. "I tell you, these bitches are a pain in the ass. I always have to remind them what they need to do. Maybe their tiny brains are working too slow to comprehend what I say. Who knows?"

Nathan grinned and replied. "It's a shame you can't clone yourself, am I right, Vic? Sometimes it's better if we do things on our own instead of letting those idiots get in our way."

Victoria rolled her eyes and started to paint her fingernails while occasionally turning the pages of a french fashion magazine, sneering. "Yeah, look at me. I always have to do with these two sluts. But oh well, my parents urged me to be friends with Courtney and Tay and I'm just too nice for this world."

Nathan grabbed a water bottle from her nightstand and took a huge swig. After rubbing his wet lips with the sleeve of his red cardigan he agreed. "Yes, you are, Vic. You're way too nice."

She looked up from her magazine to examine her new red nail color and added. "See? I told you, that's my fucking problem."

Nathan knew that Vic just pretended to act so tough and strong in front of everyone. Deep down she hid her insecurity and fragility to survive in this business. Vic knew how brutal the art world could be and that it took a thick skin to go out there and make a name for yourself, pushing your competition out of the way at the same time.

Victoria eyed him carefully now, her expression worried. "I guess you had a bad day yesterday. You looked awful, Josh."

"Stop calling me _Josh_! You know I _hate_ that name!" Nathan barked at her and took a deep calming breath, his shaky fingers fishing a cigarette out of his jacket inside pocket.

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down! Jeez, did you forget to take your meds or what?" Victoria asked him and offered him her lighter. A fancy, little toy, looking like a small pink stiletto.

' _What a geek_.' Nathan thought and couldn't help but grin at that. Vicky was really something else. The only queen in his life who was allowed to stand at his side. Prescott and Chase. The king and queen of Blackwell Academy.

But his fears returned when a sudden image of Vic's unconscious body lying in the dark room flashed in his mind and he tried desperately to get it out of his head.

Nathan couldn't imagine to frame her in that sterile, white room. Or imagining himself sliding a needle into her delicate neck. Such sick stuff should never happen to her. Not _his_ Vic. His one and only _best_ friend at this goddamn school. A friend who was so close and dear to him like his own sister Kris. That unbidden image reminded him why he had been in a stinky mood in the first place. It was all Mark's fault. He wanted Vic's pictures for his fucking red binder.

"I didn't forget my meds. I just had one of those shitty days, you know." Nathan murmured and opened a window, smoking his cigarette and feeling a little less agitated now.

"There are rumors going around here. What kind of shit did you do this time? Did you get in trouble again?" Victoria wanted to know, cocking her eyebrow.

Nathan was confused. "Wait, _rumors_? What kind of rumors?"

"They say you hurt that waif hipster bitch." Vic informed him, shrugging her shoulders in an uncaring manner. "You know how much I _hate_ her, so I can't really say she didn't deserve whatever happened to her."

"Who's spreading that rumor?" He inquired, impatience in his voice, already being very tense and nervous.

"Oh, it's Caulfield's little nerd pet. Warren Gayham." Victoria replied, leaning back in her chair and closing the lid of her nail polish.

"Fuck! I'll _kill_ that bastard!" Nathan screamed and clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Everything was spiraling out of control and those fucking rumors were the last thing he needed right now.

Victoria seemed curious, questioning him. "Is he... is Graham telling the truth?"

"Heck, I just pulled a prank on her and kinda hit her on the head. It was nothing serious." Nathan lied and took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke very slowly. Everything was fine in his eyes. Jefferson's groupie didn't die and nothing really happened. Why did she make a fuss about it and went straight to Wells? That damn hoe should have just kept her fucking mouth shut.

Vic watched him in silence for a moment and a grin appeared on her face. "Well, that dumb wannabe hipster only got what she deserved, right?"

"Right. Let's talk about something else. I've had enough of that whore. Thanks to her I had to show up at the Principal's office and had to listen to another one of Sean's fucking rants." Nathan huffed and put out his cigarette.

"That explains why you looked like shit yesterday. Anyway, what do you wanna talk about? The _Everyday Heroes_ contest?" Vic suggested, giving him a wide smile.

Nathan shook his head and gave her an angry look. "Oh, I don't give a single fuck about that _damn_ contest anymore. I still haven't decided if I want to submit my entry or burn it."

"I was actually the _first student_ who submitted a photograph. Mr. Jefferson was very pleased and highly praised my work. I don't want to brag here but I'm sure he'll choose my shot. And then it's just Mark and me having a great time in SF. Can you believe it? Me together with _Mark Jefferson_? My _idol_? It's like a dream coming true. I'm so excited, Nate. I can't wait till he announces me as the contest's winner." Vic told him, her voice sounding giddy, clearly showing her excitement.

Nathan grimaced instantly the second Victoria mentioned Jefferson's name. The name of the teacher who wanted to frame his best friend in their dark room just to punish his protégé. It hurt him so much that he was unable to make eye contact, mumbling absent-mindedly. "No one works so hard as you, Vic. I'm sure you'll win this with ease."

Vic beamed at him. "Of course I'll win this with ease. If anyone else wins this, it would be a disaster. My parents would surely _kill_ me. You _know_ them."

"Yeah, I remember. At least they're not as annoying as my old man." Nathan pointed out and rubbed his head.

There was worry on Vic's face again as she stood up, looking down at him and staring at his shaking hands. "You scared the shit outta me yesterday. You should have seen yourself, Nate. You were so confused and only babbled nonsense. Are you _really_ okay now? Maybe it would be better if you call in sick today."

"Bullshit! I'm fine!" He forced himself to smile, assuring her. "See? Everything's cool."

That didn't seem to ease her worries at all and she asked. "By the way, how was your session with your psychiatrist? What was his name again? Dr. Jacoby? You said he's helping you a lot."

Just hearing his psychiatrist's fucking name made him angry again and he retorted. "I don't wanna talk about my doc. Would you please mind your own business, Vic? I know you mean well. Everybody does. But you _can't_ help me. _Nobody_ can!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't want to..." She tried to apologize but Nathan's mood had already reached another low point. He stood up from her bed and interrupted her. "Thanks for letting me stay here overnight. I gotta go now."

His hand reached out to turn the door knob and Nathan suddenly paused in his movement, remembering a question he wanted to ask her. Depending on her answer he would decide his next course of action.

The young student turned his head and studied her. "Hey Vic, have you ever considered standing at the _other side_ of the lens? As a... _model_?"

Victoria snorted and looked insulted. " _Me_? A _model_? Are you kiddin' me? Do I look like Rachel fucking Amber? I'm a _photographer_. Modeling and posing in front a camera doesn't interest me one single bit. I thought you know that."

 _Rachel Amber_. That name would haunt him for the rest of his miserable life. The image of her pale, lifeless body lying in a dirty pit of Arcadia Bay's junkyard was engraved in his memory forever. He would never forget her. No, he couldn't forget her even if he wanted to. Drugs, meds, alcohol. He tried everything but nothing could suppress those excruciating memories. His memories were like air bubbles under water, they were always coming back to the surface.

Rachel also paid him visits in his nightmares. No, it was actually worse. She would always pursue him in his dreams. A shuffling, decaying corpse and her head only a skull with black worms crawling out of her eye sockets. It was a dreadful sight which sickened him and made his blood run cold. And waking up from these nightmares gave him no release. Nathan would shot up in his bed with fear in his blue eyes, bathing in his own sweat. His dreams would always remind him of the fact that it had been him who killed her. And that it was his punishment to go through this hell. Again and again.

Nathan smiled weakly. "Never mind. I was just curious, that's all."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why he asked that question. Yet, she chose not to broach that subject again and crossed her arms, saying. "Yeah, whatever. See you in class."

Nathan only nodded in return and left her room. For a moment he just stood there like a motionless statue, staring at the dorm's exit door and his eyes sliding out of focus. His hand instinctively moved to his jacket pocket and touched the familiar cold metal of his gun.

' _You're okay, bro. You're sober today. You can do it, Nathan. You know how to use a gun. No big deal._ ' Nathan assured himself in his thoughts, knowing this was his last resort. He couldn't allow himself to make another mistake and fuck up again. Because this time another misstep might surely cost him his life. Not that the prospect of death scared him. On the contrary, there were often times where he thought that it might be a salvation. A way to leave this terrible place and to escape from the nightmares which haunted his mind.

' _No, bro. Don't even think about it. You've got folks who try to be there for you. Like Kris and Victoria. Now is not the time to give up. No, it's about fucking time to fight back_.'

* * *

It was finally lunch break and Nathan had to pull a few tricks just to get here in time. The second he entered the campus that fascist fuck David Madsen had been close on his heels the whole time, following him like some weird, pushy stalker. Nathan had cursed under his breath and took a few shortcuts here and there but he couldn't shake off his pursuer. His last hope were his buddies Hayden and Logan. They used a diversionary tactic and blocked Madsen's path so that Nathan could slip away from him. Running around the school grounds like a complete idiot had been such a hassle that it made him feel very irritated. For a second he even considered to scrub the whole thing yet he knew that he couldn't. It was all for Vic. Nathan was on a mission now and nothing would stop him.

When he arrived at the photography classroom it was already empty and deserted. The only person left here was Blackwell's famous art teacher, Mark Jefferson. Nathan Prescott stood at the doorway for a long second, dark blue eyes observing his mentor. Mark seemed busy reading essays at his desk and Nathan wondered if the man had noticed his presence at all.

"Nathan." Mark's deep voice immediately startled him and he cautiously entered the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Nathan tried his best to remain calm although he was feeling like a fucking mess inside. He took a careful step towards Mark, suggesting. "I thought this might be a good time to talk about... _Vic_."

"Of course. Have a seat." Mark gestured with his hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk and took a sip from his coffee mug, his intent eyes fixed on his former favorite student.

His face was an unreadable mask and Nathan was glad that he hid his trembling hands inside his jeans pockets. He didn't want Jefferson to see his nervousness. He approached a desk in the middle of the room and hopped on it, letting his legs casually dangle off the table's edge.

"I'm glad you're here, Nate. I was hoping you'd come today." Mark said, giving him that fatherly, gentle smile but Nathan knew it was fake. His teacher didn't care about him anymore. Max Caulfield was his fave now. Compared to her Nathan had lost everything. Mark's attention, his kindness, his praise and most importantly his substitute father. Everything was gone. Soon Mark would dispose of him as well and bury his dead body next to Rachel's rotting corpse. That would be a cruel irony in his eyes. The murderer lying next to his victim.

Nathan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Maybe he could avoid any bloodshed if Mark would listen to his plea. He decided it was worth a try to settle this matter peacefully. Nathan clenched his fists inside his pockets and bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked him. "Can you... you know, _rethink_ your decision to frame Vic? She's not the model you wanted to capture, it's _Kate_. Wouldn't it be a waste of your precious time to take Victoria instead?"

Mark just stared at him in silence and Nathan gulped, continuing to convince him. "Look, I don't _want_ Vic as our model and you don't want her either. It's like working on a job we both hate. Why should we do something we don't even care about?"

"Because this is your _punishment_ , Nate. It doesn't matter to me if this upcoming session won't produce great results. That's not important here. And don't worry. I haven't forgotten our dear Kate Marsh. She'll _become_ one of my models. Sooner or later." Mark explained matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses.

"Then you leave me no other choice, man!" All of a sudden Nathan jumped off the table and pulled out his gun in one quick motion, pointing it straight at Mark's chest.

To his surprise Mark seemed unfazed by his unexpected action and chose to remain seated. Nathan only detected a strange glint in his brown eyes, betraying his obvious displeasure but other than that there was no emotion.

This was the face of the true Mark Jefferson. The facial expression of a cold and calculating man. The one that gave him the chills and frightened him like nothing else, causing his whole body to feel numb and crawling with ants at the same time.

"You never seem to _learn_ from your mistakes, don't you, Nate?" Mark's voice was dangerously low and devoid of any warmth. He probably knew it was pointless to put up any false pretenses here.

' _Don't panic, Nathan. You got this! You have a weapon and you're in charge here. He has to listen to your demands or you shoot him_. _It's as simple as that._ ' Nathan thought and clutched the gun in a firm grip.

"Do you really intend to _kill_ me? _Me_? Your _partner_? The only one who actually cares about you in this fucking town?" Mark asked and stood up from his chair, dark eyes focusing on his student like a predator, his body taut and ready to strike at any moment.

The air was very thick with tension now. It became a battle of wills, each man was relentlessly attempting to stare the other one down.

"You don't really _care about me_ , Mark. If you did you would have never chosen someone else as your private student." Nathan accused him through gritted teeth, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

Mark let out a tiny chuckle. "Ah, there it is again. _Jealousy_. Do you really think the world only revolves around _you_ just because you're the only son of the rich and mighty Sean Prescott? I'd advise you to wake up from your delusions and stop this childish behavior. Don't forget that it was _you_ who brought us to this point. Your jealousy _killed Rachel_ and it _almost killed_ Max as well."

"Jeez, it was a fucking _accident_! I _didn't_ _want_ to kill her!" Nathan cried, the gun in his hands shaking now. This sign of weakness didn't escape Mark's attentive eyes. The boy began to crumble in front of him. That was the chance he had been waiting for to take action and he took a purposeful step towards his direction.

But just as he circled around his desk, he stopped in his tracks as Nathan warned him in a shrill voice. "Don't come any closer or I swear I'll _shoot_!"

His mentor held up his hands in a defensive manner and tried to soothe him. "It's okay, Nate. _See_? I'm staying _right here_."

While Nathan was a tide of conflicting emotions, fighting the urge to unleash his anger at any given moment and attempting to hold his fears at bay at the same time, Mark just stood there as if being threatened by a gun left him completely unperturbed.

His calm gaze was focused on his student and he spoke with a mild voice. "I must say I'm impressed that you'd go to such lengths to protect Ms. Chase. Is she that _important_ to you? Or are you actually _in_ _love_ _with_ _her_ , Nate?"

"Bullshit!" Nathan spat, seemingly irritated and asked him in return, "Do you think I'm some pervert who would fuck his _own sister_?"

Mark let out a soft chuckle, correcting him. "Victoria Chase _isn't_ your sister, Nate."

"Vic's like family to me and she doesn't treat me like a freak. That's all that matters to me." Nathan explained and hoped that Mark would stop asking any further questions about his best friend. It angered him somehow and made his blood boil, thinking to himself that Mark was only playing his stupid games with him, trying to get under his skin.

Jefferson removed his thick rimmed glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose before returning his attention to his protégé, admitting to him. "It seems I've underestimated you, son. I truly admire your resolve and that's why I'm willing to make an _exception_ regarding your _friend_."

His sudden change of mind made Nathan very suspicious. The boy felt his fucking anxiety rise to new levels and he ground his teeth instinctively, asking in a guarded tone. "Are you _serious_ or is this just one of your fucking tricks?"

Mark gave him that enigmatic smile and promised. "I can assure you I'm serious about that. And I have no reason to lie to you, do I?"

" _Fuck you_ , Jeff! What's that exception you've mentioned, huh?" Nathan wanted to know, not letting his guard down for one single second in front of this dangerous man. Mark probably forgot that two can play this game.

"Since Miss Chase is a model you refuse to capture, I'd grant you the possibility to choose another woman who would take her place. But I'll only accept your choice under the sole _condition_ that she's _not_ a student of Blackwell Academy. I add this condition because I don't want to make this task _too easy_ for you. Do you _understand_?" Mark smirked as if he had already won his little game yet the boy saw this as his chance to save Vicky.

Nathan lowered his gun and glared at him, certainty in his voice. "I'll find _someone_ , you'll see."

He already had someone in mind. It was Rachel's annoying punk ass friend but he couldn't recall her name. Was it Prince? Or Price? What the fuck ever! It didn't matter. That bitch should suffice as Vic's surrogate.

"Just make sure this person matches our _special_ criteria, okay?" Mark remarked with a pretentious smile and he took note of Nathan slowly relaxing in his presence.

' _It's over_.' Nathan thought and allowed himself to loosen his tense posture, not quite believing that it all went so smoothly in the end.

But letting his guard down proved to be a terrible mistake because Mark seized this moment to strike. It happened from one second to the other. Nathan wasn't prepared for his quickness. His teacher's swift movement was one fluid motion as he leaped at him. Everything happened so fast that it caught him completely off guard. There had been no time to react or to point his gun at Jefferson again.

Mark took the weapon away from him without any resistance and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, slamming him down against the nearest desk. The impact was so powerful that he cracked his head.

Nathan's head was pounding fiercely and he felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, blinking frantically because he only saw white dots dancing in his vision for a moment. The sheer impact had made him so dizzy that he struggled to orientate himself. As he felt the warm breath of the older man on his skin, he flinched beneath him and tried to break free. But it was just a reflexive reaction that didn't get him anywhere.

A hand clenched around his throat and held him down while he felt the cold muzzle of his own gun pressing against his temple now.

Nathan slowly realized that he had held his breath for a while, his mind too dazed to formulate a single thought. His fear rendered him numb and speechless. The boy could only listen to the racing pulse of his own heart. He was in the eye of the storm, in the calm center of the hurricane as his teacher watched him with a terrible, blank expression.

The heavy silence between them continued for a few, seemingly endless seconds before his ears picked up Mark's smooth voice. It cut like a cool breeze of air through the black smoke swirling inside Nathan's mind. "Oh Christ... _look_ at your face. That _fear_ in your eyes. Such a pure and raw expression... _Fascinating_."

" _P-Please_..." Nathan let out a shuddering sob, his teary eyes staring up and meeting Mark's brown eyes. His mind was a muddled mess of broken thoughts now, his nerves flaring up in sensitivity as he laid there defenseless, anticipating his own death.

Mark towered over his stiff body, a strange glimmer flickered in his eyes as he stared down at him, stating in a cold, dispassionate tone. "You've caused me nothing but trouble lately, Nate. It's such a shame, really. You possessed _so much_ untapped potential. You were a rare talent only waiting for me to guide you to greatness yet you've chosen to let it all go to waste. Tell me, why should I keep you as my protégé? How does your cooperation still benefit me, hmm?"

Nathan returned his gaze, his facial expression showing a mixture of confusion, despair and pain. Cold sweat pearls were running down his skin, the metal of the gun touching his temple making him feel very anxious. He stammered with a panic-stricken face. "Y-You still need me. I-I'm the one buying our drugs and I-I'm also the one who drugs your f-fucking s-subjects and brings them to the d-dark room."

His teacher's expression was stern but his voice seemed thoughtful as he informed him. "I actually found someone else who can buy the chemicals we need. But you're right. You've done a good job so far regarding the acquisition of our models."

Mark lowered his eyes as if he was reflecting upon the whole new situation, admitting in an almost sad tone. "It's partly my fault that it had come to this. I've been neglecting you, Nate, and that wasn't cool."

Nathan wasn't sure if he had heard him right. Was his mind playing tricks on him or was Mark really apologizing to him? His head hurt like hell and he couldn't think clearly anymore. The fucking pain was overwhelming all his senses.

He squirmed under his strong grip and whimpered weakly. "I-I don't understand... W-What do you mean by that?"

Mark sighed and withdrew the gun from his temple. "It means that I'm giving you _one last chance_. I know I've _made mistakes_ and I want to make it up to you."

He helped Nathan to get up from the desk and pulled him to his feet, gazing at him with his hooded eyes. "If you accept my offer to start from scratch again, I'll resume our private tutoring lessons. But this can only work if you promise me to stop fucking everything up. That means _no flying solo_ anymore and you'll _fucking listen_ to what _I_ have to say! We're partners, a team. We have to work _together_ and not against each other. Do _you understand_?"

Nathan was still shaking uncontrollably and had problems to stay still. He would have to take his meds soon to calm his fucking anxiety. Mark's sudden change of heart confused him and he didn't know what to make of it yet.

Still, it was his last chance to have everything back the way it was before. It was what he always wanted. Mark Jefferson. To have him back in his life and to feel that rush again. An addictive rush only Mark could give him. He was the father he needed. The father Sean could never be. Mark was his anchor. He was the only person in this godforsaken world who could keep his growing insanity at bay.

Nathan was also aware that it could be a trap but he didn't care. His dark blue eyes watched his mentor cautiously and he nodded slightly, his shaky voice sounding submissive, knowing without a doubt how much this would please his teacher. "I _understand_ , Mark. I _know_ I've been acting rash and foolish and I _swear_ , it won't happen again."

Mark's fingers caressed the back of his head, his lips forming that familiar smile that could bring Nathan's heart to its knees, humming. "Very good, Nate. Let's meet up at my house later and we'll have a drink together. It'll be just like the old times. Cool?"

Nathan blushed and was already looking forward to have Mark all to himself again. "Yeah, cool."

* * *

Strange feelings overcame Nathan as he sat on Mark's leather designer couch in his living room. Quiet, slow jazz music played in the background. It was Jacqui Dankworth. Nathan recognized her beautiful, soft singing voice immediately. His gaze wandered to the large windows, watching how the autumn sun bathed the entire room in warm, yellow light. It was as if all the recent events related to the Caulfield bitch had never happened. They were simply gone and almost forgotten like a bad nightmare or a fleeting memory.

To his surprise Mark also didn't mention Caulfield's name. It seemed he was purposefully avoiding this delicate topic, preventing to cause any more unnecessary stress to his student. Everything was too good to be true right now and the boy thought there had to be a catch somewhere.

Nathan straightened in his seat when he noticed Mark's return from the kitchen, he was sauntering to the couch with two glasses in his hands. An irish beer for his student and whiskey for himself. This was exactly what Nathan loved so much about him. Unlike Sean Mark Jefferson treated him like an adult, an equal. They could chat about everything and Mark would always listen and give him advice.

The older man took a seat right next to him and was so close that their shoulders were nearly touching one another. Nathan swallowed hard and needed a moment to compose himself. The mere sight of Mark Jefferson took his breath away. He looked impeccable and perfect as always. A young god dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Mark handed him his cold glass, an amused smile playing on his lips. "What happened, Nate? Has the cat got your tongue?"

Nathan cleared his throat and quickly looked away, chugging down his beer until his glass was completely empty and murmured. "I-It's nothing."

Mark laughed lightly and poured more beer into his glass, "I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't mean to startle you." and took a sip from his whiskey now. He leaned back on the couch in a casual manner and seemed content, enjoying his drink and the company of his protégé next to him.

"So, um, what will happen to Vic's binder? Will you discard it?" Nathan inquired, hoping it wasn't too early to ask that question.

"I won't need it anymore. But it also depends on you. You have to find a suitable substitute and I can imagine it won't be easy." Mark stated in a conversational tone.

"Actually, I have someone in mind." Nathan told him, feeling proud of himself that he would be able to fulfill this task so easily.

Mark quirked an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink, asking. "Oh, really? I'm curious who this mysterious model of yours is."

Nathan grinned and chose to keep quiet about it, not wanting to reveal any more details than necessary.

All of a sudden he started to feel very dizzy and he wondered if he was suffering from the effects of the alcohol. But that was impossible. He didn't drink that much to get wasted like that.

"I'm feeling kinda... _strange_." Nathan slurred and tried his best to concentrate and to keep his eyes open. It would be embarrassing if he'd fall asleep on Mark's couch now.

Mark glanced down at his wristwatch and commented in a calm tone. "This is actually the first time I've put a drug in a drink, Nate. I have to say, this method isn't really my style. I always prefer to administer a direct dose because it's much more _effective_."

" _What_? I-I don't _understand_..." Nathan blinked, his vision wavered, crossing the line of blacking out before it slowly came back, being fuzzy around the edges. His whole body was swaying back and forth on the couch and he felt like a seasick man stuck on a rocking boat.

"I think you understand me quite well. Though it doesn't really matter now, does it? I've made sure that this dose is more than enough to severely compromise your memory. Don't worry, Nate. I _promise_ you won't remember any of this." Mark assured him in an absolutely calm voice.

"You... _fucking... liar_!" Nathan managed to utter, his vision wavered and his own heart hammered so loudly in his chest he thought Mark might hear it. He knew he was very close to passing out. The drug left him little strength to get away from him.

Mark gave him a cruel smile and whispered almost intimately. "Oh, you got that wrong. You see, I didn't lie to you. When I offered you the chance to find a substitute model for Ms. Chase, I had actually chosen you, Nate."

" _What the_..." Nathan muttered, his eyelids becoming so heavy that he couldn't keep them open any longer. The black abyss of unconsciousness swallowed him whole, black arms wrapping around him to pull him into the darkness. His limp body fell back on the couch and Mark moved his arm around his protégé's shoulders at just the right time, catching him and setting him down very carefully.

' _You're not really my first choice, Nate. A tainted soul like you is a dime a dozen out there and it doesn't match my ideal image of purity and innocence at all. But still, you will serve your purpose. Soon._ " Mark thought, smiling to himself and savoring one last swig from his exquisite whiskey.

* * *

After receiving an unexpected text message from Mark asking her to meet him tonight, Max had spontaneously taken her road racer to ride to his house as fast as she could.

 _-Hi Max. I'd like to make good on my promise. Let's meet at my place. I have a surprise for you. Mark.-_

That was all he had written and Max had racked her brain to figure out what this surprise could be. She couldn't wait to see him, knowing that he would do anything to comfort her, to make her feel better. Her worries about Nathan still consumed her thoughts most of the time and attending school today didn't really help to get her mind on to other things.

And what could offer a better distraction than a visit at Mark Jefferson's home? This man evoked strong, intense feelings in her. He had an irresistible appeal and Max just couldn't get enough of him. Yes, she knew she was playing with fire here. But she didn't care.

' _I'm an adult now. I know what I'm doing_.' Max thought.

When Max approached his door she took her cellphone out of her bag to check the current time. It was already 8pm.

' _Wow, it's late. I hope no one notices my absence or I'll surely get into trouble_.' She quickly pushed her worries to the back of her mind and rang the door bell. Mark appeared at the entrance and greeted her with an affectionate hug and a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey Max. I'm sorry for asking you to come here on such short notice. Please, come.", he took her hand and guided her inside, "I have something to show you."

Max noticed that they were on their way to his photography studio in the cellar. As they went down the narrow steps Mark suddenly covered her eyes with his large hand.

"Hey! What the heck! I can't see _anything_!" Max complained, using one of her hands to instinctively grab the wooden hand rail while the other held Mark's hand tightly.

The sound of his soft voice was close to her ear as he calmed her. "Don't worry. I got you. Just be careful walking down these steps, okay?"

"What have you hidden down there? A new expensive camera?" Max asked and giggled nervously, hoping he didn't want to do _that photo session_ now. She still thought that she wasn't ready for such an intimate session.

"Trust me. It's something _much_ _better_." He assured her and they entered the photo studio area where he escorted her to the back of the room.

' _Oh my gosh! He really wants to do that photo session!_ ' It shot through her head and she felt the heat inside her body rise immediately.

When they finally stopped, Max held her breath in anticipation, not really knowing what awaited her here. A startled gasp escaped her lips as he took his hand away from her eyes and she recognized the subject of her worst fears lying on a glaringly white floor in front of a white backdrop, just a few meters away from her. It was Nathan Prescott who was apparently sleeping off his intoxication. That wasn't such an unusual sight. Most Blackwell students looked wasted like that after a party. Nevertheless it seemed quite strange that Prescott was here in the first place.

"What's Nathan Prescott doing here in your studio?" She breathed, her eyes wide in shock.

Mark watched her intently, his head slightly tilted to the side as he replied calmly. "Do you remember our conversation where I told you that you should _face your fears_ , Max?"

"Y-Yeah." Max gulped uneasily and her gaze returned back to Nathan, being unable to take her eyes off of his unconscious body. It was strange. The rich Prescott kid didn't look so frightening anymore in this helpless state.

' _How should I face my fear? I don't understand. What does he want from me? This is absolutely crazy_.' Max asked herself in her thoughts.

A mysterious smile played on his lips as he went on, his voice lowering. " _This_ is it. _This_ is the moment for you to do it."

He discerned her fear and confusion and tried to hush her. "Shh, it's okay, Max. Don't be scared. I'm _with you_. We'll do this _together_."

"Do _what_?" Max wanted to know, being puzzled what was going on here and what he meant by all that.

He didn't answer her question at once and approached his desk instead to fetch his favored Hasselblad H5D camera, holding it up demonstratively. "Think of it as a therapy. I've told you before that photography helped me to fight my inner demons. It can help you the _same way_ it helped me."

Mark stood in front of her and gazed down at her, offering her his most expensive and cherished camera. His soft voice sounded tempting as he went on. "Remember what Nathan did to you. He _hurt_ you, Max. He _drugged_ you. We don't know when he'll receive his deserved punishment or if he ever receives it at all. But you can get some kind of _closure for yourself_ if you conduct this session now. And you can rest assured that you do _nothing_ wrong by taking pictures of him. You're _not_ hurting him and you're _not_ getting revenge. This is only a means to help yourself to get better. To find some inner peace. Nothing more and nothing less."

Max looked back at Nathan, murmuring in an unsure voice. "W-What about Nathan? Is he...? I don't know... d-did you _do that_ to him?"

Her teacher seemed amused that she even considered the notion that he might have done this. Mark shook his head, giving her an reassuring smile and clarified. "Mr. Prescott did this to himself. He's _drunk_ , Max. I found him lying alone on a bench in the park and I thought this might be a good opportunity for you to heal. You don't have to worry about him. He's fine. I'll bring him back to the dorms after this is over and nobody will ever know what happened here. I _promise_."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment and Mark could see right through her eyes, behind her own windows to her soul. He could see her inner struggle there, the wheels of her mind turning. Max was clearly torn between her conscience and what she wanted for herself.

Mark Jefferson knew this was a crucial moment for both of them. A moment that would finally decide Max's fate. If she could have a possible future at his side or not. Would she be willing to plunge into these depths and cross the boundaries to be one step closer to him?

He leaned forward and whispered softly, suggestively. "Turn your fear into strength, Max. I _know_ you can do it."

His intent eyes studied her, admired her from up close. Her short brown hair and the small freckles that adorned her face. The white light highlighted her features, her mesmerizing blue eyes, her cheekbones and her soft lips. She was like a living sculpture, the epitome of art and fineness.

Max narrowed her eyes now and avoided his gaze, muttering. "I-I hate myself. I hate to be weak, to be scared like this."

She raised her eyes to meet his again and he noticed a fragile confidence building inside her as she said. "I _trust_ you, Mark. If you think this might help me, I'd like to give it at least a try."

A rush of excitement flooded his chest when Max accepted his camera, holding it in her small, delicate hands. She took a deep, calming breath and turned around to face her new model.

Although Max had chosen to perform this session, she still felt very tense. The camera was unsteady in her grip as she lifted it with her trembling hands, turning it on and making a few adjustments on the small display screen. When the young student was finished with her preparations she looked at Nathan's unconscious body through the eyepiece.

She somehow managed to snap a few shots of him but it was a difficult endeavor. Shivers shook her whole body and she could barely focus on the task at hand. Mark stepped forward so that their bodies were extremely close together. She could hear the sound of fabric rustling as he reached around her and placed his palm on her chest so that he could feel her pounding heart underneath his touch.

Mark dipped his head down, his mouth next to her ear and his warm breath caressing her skin as he whispered softly. "Calm down, Max. Relax. Breathe in and breathe out. Yes, just like that."

His voice was almost hypnotizing and Max felt herself ease up a little. Yet, her breath hitched in her throat when he suddenly sneaked his other free hand around her to place it upon her hand, aiding her to steady her grip on the camera.

Max automatically leaned back against him, seeking his support. Mark's mouth was still at her ear, his voice was close, intimate as he asked her. "Tell me, what do you _see_ , Max?"

"Vulnerability, helplessness. A model _bare_ in front of my camera eye." Max whispered in response and stared down at the young man who was the cause for her anxiety.

The older man's hand moved away from her heart to embrace her now, pressing her against his body now. "And what do you _feel_?"

Max paused for a long moment and the seconds ticked by. She was fearing to admit what she felt right now. When she found her voice again she confessed in a quiet tone. "I feel more confident, stronger... _in control_."

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Mark asked and held back a smile. He wanted to appear neutral but he actually felt very satisfied.

The heat from the close proximity between them was rising. Every breath and every touch burned her skin like hot fire. Max turned her head and tried to look at him. When she saw his brown eyes looking back at her, she admitted nervously. "I know this sounds crazy but yes... it _feels good_ somehow."

Mark tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing her a better look into his eyes. Brown eyes which were watching her attentively, witnessing her transformation. He could feel his chest swell in anticipation and he was unable to hide his enthusiasm any longer. This was indeed a fascinating development and gave him a sense of accomplishment he had never felt before. He felt like an artist who was slowly falling in love with his own creation.

An appreciative smile appeared on his lips and he pulled her close until her head rested in the curve of his neck. "It's not crazy, Max." She heard him murmur above her, stroking her hair gently and speaking in a calm, soothing voice, "It's only natural to feel that way. Nathan made you feel weak and powerless. But you were able to take back the reins, to regain control and to conquer your fear. I'm very proud of you."

Max looked up again and saw something igniting in his eyes. Mark leaned forward and there was this crackling energy hanging in the air again as they stared into each other's eyes, both feeling the rising anticipation. First his nose touched the side of hers slowly before he finally pressed his lips to hers in a tentative, exploratory kiss. Mark's lips had the distinct taste of whiskey and they were wreaking a new kind of havoc on her senses. Max was lost in her own sensations as she parted her lips to accept Mark's questing tongue. His hot tongue swirled inside her mouth, exploring and relishing her taste. A quiet moan escaped her lips. This kiss was doing something to her that she never thought was possible. She forgot everything now. This crazy and twisted photo session, Nathan lying in the back of the room or the realization that she had actually felt good when she had taken pictures of Nathan. Everything didn't matter anymore.

Max only felt him, his warm breath on her skin, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the heat coming off of his body, his caressing fingers on her cheek and the hand that landed on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him.

Both became breathless but neither of them was willing to stop the kiss. Their kiss only seemed to deepen as their tongues met and began a battle for dominance. It was a battle Max could only lose due to her lack of experience but she didn't care. She enjoyed the way he completely owned her, his kiss working a mind-boggling magic on her senses.

To her surprise Mark reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. His fingers brushed possessively over her hair and his brown eyes looked so dark now, they were almost black as he asked her in a low, seductive tone. "Oh, Max. I'd love to _devour_ you now but unfortunately we don't have much time left. We still have to take a few more shots of our male model here. Don't you agree?"

Max felt like she was frozen on the spot, looking deep into the darkness of his eyes and murmuring in a breathless voice. "Yeah, we always have to take the shot first, right?"


	11. Chapter 10: Chiaroscuro

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N:** Thanks again to everyone who's reading and following this story. And a special thank you goes to Xander The Prince, tur 1823 and Elise477 for reviewing this story. You guys made my day and your reviews made me really happy. :)_

 _About this chapter: It's rated M._

 **Chapter 10: Chiaroscuro**

It was late in the afternoon and the sun threw its warm light on half of the principal's office while the other half of the room remained shrouded in shadows. Max felt strange to be here again, to sit on that same chair as last time and to stare at the intimidating figure of Principal Wells. The tall man clearly stood out here, dressed in his light gray suit with a fitting dark red shirt. Standing behind his large leather armchair with his hands clasped behind his back, he gave a brief summary why they were all attending this meeting today. Unlike last time the small room seemed crowded now. Her teacher Mark Jefferson chose to stay close behind her chair. His mere presence was comforting, making her feel safe and less agitated.

The rich Prescott kid sat right next to her, leaning forward in his seat and his right leg bouncing up and down in a restless manner while his fingers tightly gripped the armrests. It was fairly obvious that he felt just as uncomfortable to be here as Max herself. Furthermore there were two more people attending this discussion.

One of them was the chief of Blackwell security, Mr. David Madsen and the other one was school nurse Mrs. An-Marie Barenchi. Both stood at the back of the room and were almost hidden in the shadows.

Max didn't really listen to what Wells had to say. She had this gut feeling that all this was just another farce, already suspecting that Nathan would never get any sort of punishment. It was only wishful thinking he might face a suspension or even get expelled from Blackwell Academy.

There was no doubt in her mind that Sean Prescott was the true puppet master here, pulling the strings and controlling Wells behind the scenes. And as long as the old Prescott held some power through his numerous money donations his son would never have to suffer the consequences of his actions.

It was weird but whenever she looked at Nathan now she was immediately reminded of yesterday's photo session. Much to her own surprise she felt more confident now. Under normal circumstances Max would have been anxious to be so close beside this young man. Yet she felt nothing, except maybe a tiny bit of sympathy.

The photography session made her realize that Nathan was just as vulnerable, powerless and helpless as her. They weren't really all that different in that regard. This crazy experience had irreversibly changed her. Max had learned that she was also capable to instill fear in the person who had bullied and hurt her. Though her whole approach had been quite different. She had only taken photos of him in this weak condition. No one had to suffer and this had only been a means to take back the reins, to have this feeling of control and stability back in her life.

This had been her first willful step into the darkness. But she wasn't alone. Mark was always at her side. He was her beacon of light, her guide through the night. Her teacher was her lantern to keep the darkness at bay.

' _Perhaps_ _I should ask Nathan if he's okay. Or if he remembers anything_.' Max thought and rubbed her head, always stealing a quick glance at Nathan and trying to focus on the principal's speech at the same time.

Principal Wells turned to her and regarded her with a strict expression on his face, pulling her attention to the here and now as he asked her. "This sums up the recent events. Now, Ms. Caulfield, please tell us, do you still wish to retain your statement or not?"

' _Wells is funny, isn't he? As if I'd take back what I've told him_.' Max sighed and gave him a slight nod, replying in a firm voice. "Yes, I retain my statement."

The principal frowned at her and came forward so that he could lean back against his desk now, then he leveled his gaze at Nathan Prescott. "And will you also retain your statement, Mr. Prescott?"

Nathan snorted and shot him an irritated look. "Oh, come on, do you even have to ask? Of course I retain my statement! She's the liar here, not _me_."

Wells let out a long, heavy sigh and looked at Mr. Madsen for a moment before his gaze returned back to Max. "I've given Mr. Madsen the assignment to conduct a search at Mr. Prescott's dorm room to verify the truth of your accusation."

That piece of information caught Max by surprise because she never thought the principal would actually consider to investigate this case. This turn of events gave her new hope and she shifted in her seat, watching Wells expectantly with her blue eyes.

But all her hopes were soon crushed from one second to the other as Principal Wells narrowed his dark eyes, his deep voice declaring matter-of-factly. "Yet it saddens me to inform you that he didn't find anything substantial which could back up your opinion. There were no drugs or syringes and he didn't find any brown leather sneakers either. "

Max threw a glance at Mr. Madsen who avoided her questioning eyes and the security guard gave Wells an accusing look instead, cursing under his breath and grumbling in frustration. "A drug detection dog would easily find this kid's secret stash but our principal here was against my suggestion. I'm sorry about that, missy."

' _Really?_ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ' Max thought and shook her head disbelievingly. It almost seemed as if Wells only attempted to look into this matter to keep up appearances without really trying to find out the truth here. It was incredibly frustrating to say the least.

Anger welled up inside her and her hands curled into tight fists. She wanted to rise from her chair and yell at this man now, to give free rein to her rage but Mark reacted quickly and stopped her. His warm hand was on her shoulder and she could feel his breath on her cheek as he leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I know you're angry, Max. But please try to keep calm. Believe me, lashing out at Wells won't get you anywhere here."

"But..." Max protested, not understanding why she couldn't speak her mind. Her growing disappointment was so strong that she felt the need to let it out somehow, unable to contain her exasperation any longer.

"Shh, trust me, Max. You don't want to have an emotional outburst at the cost of risking your scholarship now, do you?" He reminded her in a thoughtful tone and his words caused her to stop and think it over once again.

' _He's right, I should be careful. It's not worth it to jeopardize my scholarship just to tell Wells what I truly think of him. That I see him as just another pawn of Sean Prescott_.' Max thought and nodded at Mark, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly to calm herself again.

The principal turned his attention to a yellow folder placed on his desk and pointed at it with a single finger, explaining. "Although we couldn't find any evidence we still have Mrs. Barenchi's report which clearly states that Ms. Caulfield has been injured."

Wells returned behind his mahogany desk and sat back in his armchair, steepling his fingers and eyeing Mrs. Barenchi now. The old school nurse was known as a kind and friendly woman around here. Everyone at Blackwell seemed to like her. She was like a mother to all students, always lending an open ear to everyone's little problems and troubles. Max also enjoyed listening to her chat about her time in Canada.

A few years ago Mrs. Barenchi had moved from Montréal to Arcadia Bay because her husband's family lived here. She loved to tell stories about her home country or how much she missed to speak french sometimes. Max knew that Mrs. Barenchi wasn't someone who was easily intimidated by Principal Wells or even Nathan Prescott. This woman would always say her opinion and Max was sure that she'd be on her side in this matter.

Mrs. Barenchi cleared her throat and stepped forward into the light, nodding at the principal. "I've examined Ms. Caulfield and I observed a concussion damage. It was clear to me that something solid must have hit the back of her head to cause such harm. Therefore I believe it's highly likely that someone must have attacked her."

Nathan made an offhand gesture, as if in dismissal and shook his head. "Come on, give me a break. So you're watching CSI every evening and think you're a specialist in forensic medicine now or what? Don't make me laugh."

Mrs. Barenchi looked insulted and the principal motioned to Mr. David Madsen with his right hand, announcing in a warning tone. "Please keep quiet or I might be forced to instruct Mr. Madsen to escort you out of my office."

The young Prescott sniffed and averted his eyes, murmuring. " _What the fuck ever_!"

Principal Wells fell silent for a moment and rested his elbows on the wooden desk. After his brief pause he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward, stating with a purposeful sigh. "I have to take all statements into consideration here and I agree with Mrs. Barenchi on this matter. I also believe that it was most likely an attack."

Wells turned to Max and showed her an understanding look. "I'm sorry you had to experience such an awful event, Ms. Caulfield."

Nathan glared at the tall man and clenched his fist. He was about to rise from his chair, wanting to protest but Wells held up a hand to silence him and shook his head slowly. He took a deep breath and got to his feet.

His gaze turned slightly in Nathan Prescott's direction and he continued. "Unfortunately there is no evidence that Mr. Prescott or anyone else at this school was involved in this incident which brings our whole investigation to a standstill."

Max felt the anger rise inside her again as she asked him. "And that _means_?"

"That means, Ms. Caulfield, that I have to cancel any further investigation due to lack of evidence. This was just a single incident and I can assure you it won't happen again."

Max wasn't convinced and the principal could see the doubt in her eyes.

His deep voice was carefully modulated now. "There are _certain_ reasons why we can't afford to receive any new bad publicity now. Let me be frank about that. Half a year ago one of our best and most popular students here at Blackwell Academy disappeared under mysterious circumstances."

Wells gave her time to let the words sink in and Max furrowed her eyebrows. It was weird but even Nathan became very quiet all of a sudden and looked out of the windows now, seemingly deep in thought.

The principal adjusted his gray suit jacket and went on, speaking in a grave tone. "Sadly, this tragedy has caused quite a commotion here in Arcadia Bay. I know this has nothing to do with your case but I always have to take Blackwell's interests into account as well. Our school needs to shake off its current bad reputation. That's why I'd advise you to keep quiet about this and let our Mr. Madsen handle this matter. From now on we'll keep an eye on the campus area. And our faculty will soon discuss the option of an additional surveillance camera system which could help us to strengthen our security efforts."

Max was baffled. In the end the principal did _nothing_. What a sad joke. "So you won't even notify the police?" Max inquired.

"That won't be necessary. Mr. Madsen works closely with the police force and he'll contact them immediately if anything new should occur here. That would be all for today. Thank you all for your cooperation." Principal Wells dismissed them and exchanged a few words with Nathan Prescott before walking over to Mr. Jefferson. Both men were engaged in a lively conversation and Max decided it would be best if she met her photography teacher at a later time.

She felt a strong urge to leave now but when she arrived at the main entrance she spotted the young man who was responsible for all her problems. Nathan leaned against the heavy doors, seemingly busy searching cigarettes in his jacket pockets.

She approached him and hoped this might be a good opportunity to talk to him for a moment.

But she instantly regretted her stupid idea when he looked up at her. There was a flash of anger in his dark blue eyes as he asked. "What do you _want_ , Caulfield? Are you upset that your little scheme didn't come to fruition, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, Prescott. I just wanted to know if you're okay but I guess being nice to you is just a waste of time." Max noted dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

Nathan glared at her, his voice louder now as he sneered. "I don't need your false sympathy, bitch. I know exactly _what_ you are. You're just another hypocrite who thinks she can make a quick buck by slandering me."

"How dare you! I _don't care_ about your damn money, Prescott! I only want you to get off my back! That's all." Max made clear and didn't back away. Her newfound confidence gave her strength. She stood taller, held her head higher, not appearing uncertain or anxious at all. Nathan would never scare her anymore.

The young Prescott glowered and snorted in response. "You're a _liar_ , just like everybody else. And it's _you_ who should stop hassling me or I'll call my fucking lawyer!"

' _God, I hate this guy!_ ' Max thought and held up her hands defensively. "Jeez, chill out, Prescott. See? I'm leaving, okay?"

Nathan watched her turn away from him and hissed after her. "You think you're _special_ , right? That Mr. J. sees _something_ in you or that he regards you as his new _fave._ But guess what, you're _nothing_... a _nobody_. Don't even think you'll become better than me just because he's giving you private lessons too."

Max froze on the spot, her body very tense and her eyes widening in shock. "Wait, _what_ did you _say_?"

' _He knows I'm Mark's private student? How? That's impossible_...' Max thought and couldn't believe this. But the even bigger shock was the implication that he might be Mark's second private student.

He scoffed. "Oh, you _heard me_ , selfie bitch. I give you one little piece of advice. Stay away from Jefferson and move your ass back to Seattle!"

Max raised an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed. "Or _what_?"

Nathan only grinned at her and lit his cigarette, his voice sounding menacing as he whispered. "Or you'll _die_."

She swallowed the lump in the back of her throat and kept her voice steady although she felt very uneasy right now. "Is this a _threat_ , Prescott?"

"It's a _warning_. The _last one_ I'm giving you." Nathan announced and walked out now, leaving a confused Max behind. That was clearly an undisguised threat. Why was he doing this? It almost seemed as if he was jealous of her. Should she go to Principal Wells or contact Mr. Madsen now?

' _Well,_ _they won't believe me anyway_.' Max thought grimly and felt a cold chill run down her spine, the realization hitting her that she was on her own once again.

"Are you okay, Max?" She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard Mark's soft voice so close to her ear, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"I'm alright." Max assured him and forced a smile, shifting anxiously on her feet and avoiding his scrutinizing gaze.

His brown eyes looked her over as if he was trying to observe every possible detail. Max had the impression that he could see straight into her soul and that he could read all her thoughts inside her mind. There was no point in lying. Her teacher sensed that something was amiss here. "You look pale. Are you really alright? What happened?"

Max didn't want him to worry about her and chose to downplay the whole issue. "Oh, it's nothing. Nathan Prescott tried to threaten me... _again_. I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"He _threatened_ you?" Mark repeated slowly and his gaze darkened. For a second Max swore she caught an angry glint in his eyes. It was a glimpse of another side of him. A darker side.

"It's not the first time he did that and it won't be the last." She looked away and muttered. "Maybe I deserve _this_ after... after what-what I've done."

He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, telling her. "Max, please pardon my french but that's utter bullshit. You've done _nothing_ wrong here. You're a bold artist who dared to take her first step into a new world, to venture into a territory others would never strive to go. I've told you before that photographers like Avedon or Arbus had to cross certain boundaries to capture extraordinary images. Unfortunately they had to face a lot of criticism and lack of understanding because many couldn't understand the true genius behind their efforts. Some people don't understand why we go to such lengths, why we stray from tradition and break the rules or why we push ourselves like that. They're unable to comprehend the complexity of our vision."

Mark's brown eyes stared at her intensely now. He wanted her to realize that all this had a higher meaning, that all this was for the sole purpose of creating exceptional art. "But _you and I_ , Max. We _understand_. This is why you should never question yourself. _Believe_ in yourself, _believe_ in your work and stand behind your decisions."

"I'm _trying_. Although this was an odd experience, it helped me somehow. And I'm glad you were there with me that night. Look, it's okay. I just don't want to talk about Nathan here. That's all." Max said, hoping he would just leave it be. There had been enough trouble about her lately and she just wanted to forget all that for a while.

"You're _not_ fine, Max. But I can see you're tired and I can understand if you don't want to address this matter right now."

He paused for a few seconds, his expression suddenly changing as a new thought crossed his mind. "I think we could both need some distraction after all this. So how about us having our _first_ date tonight? What do you say?"

Her mouth fell open. "Our... _first date_? Are you _cereal_?" She couldn't quite believe she would have a date with Mark Jefferson. It was too good to be true.

' _Wowsers!_ _Someone pinch me. I need to know if this is another one of my silly daydreams or not_.' Max thought and couldn't help but stare at him. She was speechless. His suggestion caught her completely off guard.

Mark chuckled lightly, his eyes holding hers. "So I take _this_ as a _yes_?"

The way he said it made her blush. Max nodded enthusiastically, feeling the temperature rising within her. "Yes, that-that sounds great."

He smiled at her. "Very good. I'll pick you up at 7pm then. And please don't worry about your attire. Casual clothing will be just fine."

She already made wild guesses in her mind. _'Maybe we'll visit an art museum or we go see another exhibition...'_

This was so exciting and she couldn't wait to see where he would take her. Being barely able to hold back her curiosity she inquired. "Oh, so...um, where are we going today?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you. It would only spoil the fun." He told her in a cheerful tone and made his way to the exit now, pausing at the large doors and giving her a wink. "See you tonight... _Maxine_."

"Hey, wait a sec! It's Max! _Never_ Maxine!" Max corrected him quickly but her teacher only showed her one last amused smile and left the school.

* * *

It was already night and everything was dark outside as Max stared out of the car windows. They were driving down the highway for about half an hour which almost seemed like an eternity to her. Finally Mark took the next exit and she had to strain her eyes to make out the sign. It read Idaville.

Max wasn't sure what Mark wanted here. The town appeared to be as small as Arcadia Bay. Or maybe it was even smaller. This didn't seem like the right place for a cool and world-renowned photographer like Mark Jefferson. In Max's mind he was this unapproachable and superchill man who loved to stroll through the bustling streets of New York, Paris or Rome.

"I know this is a sleepy town but you'll be surprised to see that it has one of the best Jazz bars here in Oregon." Mark revealed and parked his car at a busy main road filled with shops, bars and restaurants.

He got out of the car and opened the passenger door for her, offering her his hand like a gentleman.

She gave him her hand and he drew it to his lips, gently kissing it. A jolt of electricity passed between them as she felt his warm lips touch her skin. There was this tension again. An unbearable tension that slowly seemed to rise, the atmosphere becoming charged and only waiting to be released at last.

"I'm glad you're here with me tonight, Max." Mark's eyes met hers and a knowing smile curled his lips.

Max smiled back at him, her blue eyes glued to his. "And I'm glad you've invited me."

He studied her for a long moment and gave her an appreciative look, breathing in a surprised tone. "You look lovely, Max. I'm sure all eyes will be on you this evening."

The instant she heard his compliment, she felt the blood rise to her face. Although Mark had advised her to wear something casual, she had still decided to opt for a different outfit today. That was why she wore something more elegant. Her chosen attire was a silky white blouse and black leggings with matching black boots.

Max blinked a few times and noted nervously. "You, uh, you also look quite good, Mark."

' _Quite good? Damn it, Max! Can't you say anything better? Gosh, this is so embarrassing_.' Max thought and noticed too late that she had been staring at him for too long.

His look was perfect again. His outfit consisted of a fashionable dark suit and a fitting dark blue shirt. This man effortlessly exuded an aura of confidence and sexual magnetism which made him not only attractive in her eyes but also quite irresistible. Once again she felt like a helpless moth drawn to his flame.

Mark gave her a warm smile and placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her into the jazz bar. The tiny brick building looked inconspicuous from the outside, but the moment Max stepped inside she was immersed in a chill, intimate atmosphere. The jazz club was cozy, dimly lit and had its own genuine character. The whole room was embedded in stylish, vintage decoration. The walls were adorned with old vinyl record covers and original photographs of jazz legends such as Miles Davis or Louis Armstrong. The place had a little stage at the back of the room which gave visitors the opportunity to experience the live jazz sessions up close.

"Wowsers." Max breathed and instantly regretted the fact that she didn't bring her analog camera with her today.

Mark smiled at her reaction and asked the waiter to take them to their table. It was at the far side of the room and offered a nice window view at the buzzing main street. They sat down and ordered their meals and drinks. The menu comprised traditional cuisine and both chose a steak dish as dinner here.

"I've read about this bar in a magazine article and I really enjoy the live performances here. The local musicians play nice, cool jazz and the atmosphere is always very relaxed. It's a good place to switch off and to unwind after work." Mark explained and poured white wine into their glasses.

He raised his glass and gave her a charming smile. "To us and the beauty of photography which allows us to _savor_ each and every moment in life with the _highest intensity_."

Max almost emptied her glass, hoping this would help her to calm her nervousness. Being so close together with him and holding hands like this was entirely new to her. It was intoxicating and also extremely romantic. Mark chose to keep the tone of their conversation light and touched upon various subjects and not only photography. Yet, it didn't matter to Max what the topic was, she was literally hanging on his every word.

The jazz band went up to the stage now and the tenor saxophonist took his time to introduce his several band members. After the crowd greeted them with almost frenetic applause they started with an upbeat song. Max tried to focus on the music, making out the sounds of the different instruments like a guitar, a piano, trumpets, drums or saxophones which formed a harmonic whole.

"I've always wondered, why are you so intrigued by jazz music, Mark?" That question had been on her mind for a while now because jazz was a music genre she'd never listen to in her free time. Her preferred genre had always been indie rock and pop music.

A faraway look came into his eyes and he tugged his beard. "Well, I guess you could say my father started it all. Jazz was my constant companion during my childhood and my love and appreciation for this kind of music never left me. You see, Max, Jazz is special. It's about sound, about the expression in sound of an authentic response to life, to all of life, with its ups and downs, its elation and heart-break, its moments of relaxation and hard labor. It's love... and hate."

There was a sparkle in his brown eyes now, his fascination clearly visible on his face as he continued. "A live jazz performance also reminds me a lot of a photography session. You could watch this local band up there every night and each time their performance would never be the same again because of the improvisation. It's like poetry, an art of surprise just like photography. I strongly believe that improvised photo sessions often produce the best results because they contain an element of surprise too, a moment of pure genius."

"But don't you also prefer to plan a shooting in advance? Isn't that your usual approach?" Max wanted to know.

"In most cases, yes. If you work as a fashion photographer you get into an everyday routine and it's important to get out of there, to try out something new. I must confess I don't have plans for our upcoming session, Max. I have ideas, yes. But I'd try to improvise to achieve something truly special."

Mark seemed to assess her carefully and there was this intense look in his eyes again as he suggested. "What do you say? Would you agree to let me _capture you_ tonight, Max?"

A look of surprise flashed in her eyes as she echoed. " _Tonight_?"

He sensed her hesitation and moved closer, gently pushing a strand of brown hair from her face. His voice was very soft, almost soothing now. "It's only a suggestion, Max. Please, let me explain this. I think that we've _deepened_ our bond now, that we trust each other and... well, we both can't deny that we have feelings for each other. These are all essential requirements to perform an intimate session such as this one. We could create beautiful art together. But of course, I'd never shoot you without your consent. If you think, you're not ready yet, I will _wait_ for you. I will _always_ wait for you, Max."

Max became flustered and replied in an unsure voice. "If-if you really think it's okay, I would do it, yes. But only under one condition."

Mark arched an eyebrow. "I'm all ears."

She broke eye contact and muttered. "I-I need to know if Nathan is your _other_ private student."

Mark's features turned into a mask of bitterness after hearing this and he questioned her. "My _other_ private student? Did he tell you that?"

"Yes. Is it the truth?" Max demanded to know, still hoping that Nathan had lied to her.

' _Please don't let it be true. Please don't let it be true._ ' She repeated in her head like a mantra.

He sighed and narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's the truth, Max."

She couldn't believe it and murmured. "But _why_? _Why_ didn't you tell me about him? Did you know that? What he was going to _do to_ _me_?"

"Please, you have to believe me, I didn't know." He quickly clarified and went on. "If I had known I would have stopped him. As to your other question. I'm afraid I couldn't reveal this information to you. You see, Nathan is ashamed of his love for photography. No one at Blackwell is supposed to learn about his secret hobby. He's afraid his friends and classmates would make fun of him or that they would treat him differently, yes, that they would even bully him. I respected his wishes and that's the reason why I've kept this to myself all this time."

Max shook her head, not understanding why Mark did this. Her gaze dropped to the table momentarily, her hurt audible in her voice. "But _why_ Nathan Prescott? I don't understand."

"There are many reasons. For one, I think he's genuinely talented and possesses the potential to become a great photographer. Just like you. And I've also hoped I could help him. His father Sean treats him like shit and I knew about his illness, that he's mentally unstable. I was certain that photography could be an anchor for him, that it could provide a cure to keep him connected to reality. But I was wrong. I've overestimated myself. I should have known that this clearly exceeded my capabilities as his teacher. I'm no psychiatrist nor a therapist." His expression became worried as he saw the conflict in her eyes, asking in a concerned tone. "Do you _hate me_ now, Max?"

Max was upset but she made clear. "No, I could never hate you. And how can I even be angry at you? You've tried to help Nathan. You've done nothing wrong here."

He seemed relieved and murmured. "Thank you, Max. I wish I could be an _Everyday Hero_ but I am not. I'm not as perfect as you think I am. I'm complicated. I struggle, I have flaws and I am human after all. And even I can err or make mistakes. I hope that _this_ doesn't stand between us now. You know how much I enjoy your company and how much you mean to me. If you ask me to quit Nathan's private lessons, I'll do it at once."

She gave him a weak smile and said. "No, it's okay, really. Gosh, I always try to make everything right myself but I'm also not perfect. You can ask my friends. They'll tell you that I've screwed up many times in my life too. It's as you said. We're both _not so different_ , right?"

"Thank you for your understanding. I know it isn't easy knowing all this, especially now that Nathan has threatened you."

Max sighed and her gaze moved to the stage. "I've hoped you wouldn't address this issue again, Mark. This is our _first date_ and I don't want Nathan Prescott to ruin our night here together."

"You're right, Max. Please forgive me. I shouldn't have brought this up. Let's talk about something else, okay? Why don't you tell me about your entry for the Everyday Heroes Contest? Did you make any progress? Any flashes of inspiration?"

She grimaced. "Not really. God, I must sound like a total loser... To tell you the truth, I didn't have much time to think about the contest at all and after everything that happened, it's been hard to focus. No pun intended."

Mark cupped her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. "Don't be so hard on yourself." He told her, speaking with that soft voice which encouraged her and gave her strength every time. "You're a true artist and sometimes inspiration comes to us when we least expect it. I'm sure you'll submit a stunning piece of art, Max. I _know_ you can do this."

"Thank you... for always _believing_ in me." She breathed and could feel the heat rising to her face. This close proximity was wreaking havoc on her body again. It burned her from the inside.

Thankfully their food eventually arrived and the conversation became more general again. They talked about Arcadia Bay, her time in Seattle or his exciting life as famous fashion photographer. This night was magical and once more she had this feeling to be someone special in his eyes. Many times she became incredibly flustered when he showered her with compliments or made her laugh. Max was so captivated that she completely forgot everything around her. Only he seemed to exist here. The young student felt so at ease with him as if she had known him for a very long time. She was so engrossed in conversation that she didn't notice how quickly time flew by.

Only when the waiter appeared to ask if everything was to their satisfaction, she felt disappointed, thinking to herself that it was over much too soon.

Mark must have sensed her sudden change of mood and squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay, Max. The night is still young and we both have an eventful session to look forward to, don't we?"

She laughed nervously and jested. "Oh yes, the _session_. How could I forget _that_?"

* * *

The atmosphere was strange tonight. Max sensed there was something in the air, she could practically feel it when they descended the stairs to his photography studio. Mark on the other hand was his usual self. All his thoughts were fixated on this session. He appeared to have a tunnel vision. Every little speck of his attention was going towards this one single goal: achieving the best results. Yet he had taken his time to make sure that she was comfortable, giving her a cup of hot chocolate while he took a sip of his own espresso.

After arriving downstairs Max needed a moment to take it all in. The studio's interior had changed. It seemed much more inviting than last time. Several framed photo prints of Ansel Adams' landscape photography shots decorated the white walls now. And she was surprised that it wasn't so cold down here anymore. A mobile heating system stood at the back of the room and provided enough warmth here.

Everything was ready. A black backdrop was plastered to the wall and the soft lights shone brightly. The whole studio equipment filled the small room with a continuous humming and vibrating noise.

"You've added some decoration." Max remarked.

Mark turned to her, flashing a smile. "Do you like it?"

She pointed at one of the photo prints. "The same picture hangs in your office. It's Ansel Adams' _The Tetons and the Snake River_. I'd recognize it anywhere."

"Ah yes, that one is a true _masterpiece_. As you already know, black and white is perfect for portrait photography but it's also very expressive for capturing landscapes. I feel there's something magical, something timeless in these monochrome shots. You see the world in a different way. Instead of looking at the color and the light, we look at texture, shape, tones and the interplay between light and shadow. That's why black and white photography will never cease to amaze me, Max." He clarified with a hint of fascination in his brown eyes.

Max nodded and agreed. "I've come to love black and white photography too. It possesses a pure and ageless quality that cannot be matched. Especially Ansel Adams and Edward Weston produced some of the most memorable images of all time."

Mark gave her a curious look and asked her. "Do you notice anything else? Do you have an _idea_ how I want to capture you?"

She gestured at the black backdrop and smiled knowingly. "A black backdrop... That can only mean you'll apply your _chiaroscuro style_ here."

He nodded approvingly and talked like he was giving another typical lecture in his art class. "You're right, Max. The technique I'm going to use is low-key photography and in the world of painting you'd call it _chiaroscuro_ because it's a painting technique which added similar dramatic tones to its images."

Max knew what low-key photography was. It was a photographic style used to create mood with bold shadows and injected drama into an image. A perfect style for artistic and atmospheric shots. But she had never seen an actual session before.

She furrowed her brows, questioning. "So you'll shoot me completely in darkness?"

He moved closer and reached up with his right hand to caress her face tenderly. "You'll see that a pure black area can make a photograph uniquely beautiful. That's why Henri Matisse called black the _queen_ of all colors, Max. Because black is _beautiful_. Through low-key photography I limit my light sources in dark areas and _celebrate shadow_ rather than light. And this way I can perfectly isolate my subject and draw the viewer's attention to _you_ alone, _my model_."

She gulped, her mind already conjuring images how she might look if her body was drowning in darkness. Mark gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her shoulder. "Let's warm up and start with some test shots first, cool?"

"Alright." Max murmured and watched him walk over to a cabinet where he took out an acoustic guitar.

Her eyes went wide in awe the second she recognized the Taylor label. "Whoa, isn't that the Taylor 210 DLX? Are you kidding me?" She asked, rubbing her eyes and wondering how Mark could get his hands on such an expensive guitar.

He chuckled. "I've borrowed this from a friend of mine and judging from your reaction, this baby here must be a fine guitar."

"Oh yeah, though fine is quite an understatement. This guitar is perfect for unplugged performances and I really like its simple design. It's awesome but an ordinary student like me could never afford something like this." She told him and couldn't take her eyes off this stylish guitar. The sheer thought to be able to play with this instrument made her feel really giddy.

"I've told you that I'd _love_ to see you play, Max. And music also aids you to relax so I'm killing two birds with one stone here." Mark pointed out and handed her the acoustic guitar with a rather pleased look on his face.

For a moment Max worried that she might accidentally drop this valuable guitar and held it tightly to her chest. Her teacher proposed to sit down on the white leather couch and he positioned his tripod accordingly, changing his camera settings and rearranging the nearby studio lights.

Max's fingers deftly turned the tuning pegs to improve its intonation. Her damn nervousness was rising again but Mark's calmness seemed to transfer over to her, causing her to relax in her seat.

"Just be your usual self and don't mind me and my camera. Okay, Max?" Mark suggested and gave her one last encouraging smile.

' _Okay, you can do it, Super Max. Just imagine you're sitting in your dorm room and you play one of your favorite songs. You do it every day, it's no big deal_.' Max thought and uttered a sigh.

' _Gosh, I don't even know what I should play here_.' She asked herself and randomly picked a few strings and suddenly it came to her, _Syd Matters' Obstacles_.

Closing her eyes she began to look for the chords. Her fingers seemed to have a memory of their own as they glided over the strings. When Max heard the familiar tune in her own ears, she sang along the lyrics in her head and instantly felt at ease. She could feel how she was channeling her emotions into the song and slowly allowed herself to lose herself in her own music, leaving herself exposed in front of her teacher. She bared her soul and Mark would see everything. The notion alone made her feel dizzy, vulnerable yet she also felt strangely alive right now.

Mark Jefferson looked through the eyepiece of his camera and took several shots of this innocent angel in front of him. Max's head was slightly tilted to the side and her soft lips formed a content smile. He couldn't help but take a few moments to pause and admire her beauty. The dreamy expression on her face, or the way her face seemed to light up whenever the song reached certain points, playing a sad, soothing melody. Mark could feel how Max was able to convey warmth and intimacy through her music, how she poured her own feelings into the song.

His lips curled upwards and pride flooded his system. ' _Max, you're mine. You're all that I need_.' He thought and was enraptured by her sight. This wonderful moment was precious to him and he wanted to store it in his memory forever.

The realization slowly sank in that she could become an integral part of his life now. Their lives were already beginning to weave together, to merge, to wrap around one another, like two different threads tying to one single knot. Max was his light and he was her shadow. Two opposites were getting closer and closer. They'd become whole at the end to complement and support each other.

While the thought of being so close, so intimate to someone else was exhilarating and invigorating, it also terrified him greatly. The lines between them were blurring and she'd see his true self and get a glimpse of who they both could become together.

Love. Mark understood what it was but he had never experienced anything like this before. It was a new, foreign feeling to him. It became clear to him that he wanted her at all costs. He wanted to possess her, to own her and to shield her from any harm. He even entertained the idea to place his trust in her. And would Max love him back? Would she understand him and end this agonizing loneliness he felt in his heart? Would it all be worth it, to put all his work at risk for _this_? For a chance to feel love and be loved in return? Mark was willing to expose himself to such weakness. For Max. He needed to set her free, to let her talent flourish under his guidance and to draw out parts of herself she never knew she possessed. Only he could enlighten her and bring out the best in her.

It was over and Max pressed the palm of her hand to the strings to let the last chords die away. When she opened her eyes she found Mark standing behind his tripod. There was a look of admiration in his dark eyes as he stared at her and stated. "Thank you, Max. You've truly captivated me with your performance tonight. I'm lost for words and I can assure you, that doesn't happen very often."

Max smiled shyly and muttered. "Oh, that was nothing, really. I'm just an amateur guitar player and this wasn't such a difficult song."

"Come on, give yourself some credit. You were able to convey emotion here which made it a memorable experience in my eyes. Always remember, music and photography are nothing without _emotion_."

She knew he was right and became curious, asking him. "So, um, how did your test shots come out?"

"They are quite good... as a test. But the real challenge begins now. Our next session will be entirely different. This time we'll only use one single light source. Thus I can create striking contrasts through reduced lighting. You'll see that shadows will be the primary element of my new composition." Mark announced and gave her instructions to stand in front of the black backdrop while he carried a grid softbox to another spot, positioning it very close to her to avoid spilling and bouncing light.

The second he turned off the other lights with a remote control, the small studio room was nearly engulfed in complete darkness. It looked scary and haunting, yet also very mysterious.

Dim, white light illuminated her face from the side and Mark inquired once again if she was feeling well or if she needed a short break.

But Max denied and only hoped to get this over and done with soon. There was this intensity in his hooded eyes again, making her not only incredibly nervous, yet also immediately raising goosebumps all over her skin.

Mark gave her a wink, obviously trying to relieve the tension. "No need to be so nervous around me, Max. We've had so many sessions before. I think you're already a pro now."

With that he left her and sauntered over to his camera. His fingers tapped the small display screen to set the ISO and shutter speed.

When he was finally finished with his setup his eyes went up to meet hers and he added with a smug smirk. "They say low-key photography is always a terrific challenge and some need a lifetime to master this style. But you can rest assured, this is _my specialty_ and I promise you I'll produce some spectacular images here."

At first Mark started with the aperture wide open and took a few test shots to adjust the light to his scene. Though something didn't seem to be right. He looked back and forth between his viewfinder screen and his model, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"What is it?" Max wanted to know, her unsure voice betraying her apparent concern.

"We have _two_ major problems." His gaze went up and his voice was thoughtful as he explained. "First, I'm afraid your white blouse appears very bright in these shots. It's very distracting."

Max bit her bottom lip and thought. ' _Oh, that's_ j _ust great. You chose the wrong outfit, idiot_.'

She gulped and wondered what the second problem was. "And what's the other problem?"

"It's your nervousness, Max. You see, it affects your whole demeanor, the way you come across in these pictures. It's okay to feel like this sometimes. We have sweaty palms, we're tense and feel our chest tighten. That's normal. Yet, the trick is _not to let it show_."

A new idea crossed his mind and his gaze towards her softened. "Let's try something else, okay?"

Her eyes followed him taking another few camera adjustments and to her surprise he strolled over to his desk now to remove his black suit jacket with one elegant move of his arm. He put it down on the table and folded it immaculately. When his attention returned back to her, she saw an intense look burning in his eyes. Everything was reflected in those eyes behind the spectacles. They were filled with excitement and passion.

Her body was trembling and she couldn't tear her eyes away as he closed the distance between them. To see Max like this thrilled him in a way he couldn't define. She was trapped now between the black backdrop and his own body. They both could sense the supercharged atmosphere hanging in the air.

The two were very close and he leaned in mere inches from her face, their bodies just shy of touching. Mark placed his warm hand on her cheek, suggesting in a calm tone. "Would you agree to take off your blouse, Max? I fear your light-colored outfit distracts from the place where I want the viewer's eye to go. What I want to illuminate is your face and your upper body. It'll create stunning contrasts and will accentuate your contours."

This closeness was overwhelming her. She looked down at her blouse and hesitated. "Um, take off my blouse? Are you cereal?"

Mark nodded, his intent eyes studying her. "Yes, and if it makes you feel any better, I'll take off my own shirt as well."

He started to unbutton his dark blue shirt and chuckled lightly, assuring her. "Don't worry, Max. I won't turn this into a sensual art photography session although I must confess the idea alone is very tempting. This chiaroscuro effect works best on naked skin. I reveal physical beauty in a manner that is subtle and understated. Thus I bring out the curves, the texture of your skin, your grace and the unique beauty of you as my model."

She let out a nervous laugh and shook her head. "I'm not a model like Cindy Crawford or Naomi Campbell. I'm just a plain student with an everyday look. So, I don't really understand... What's so beautiful about me?"

There was a strange glimmer in his dark eyes as he replied in an appreciative tone. "I'm talking about _natural beauty_ here. It's a rare gift and very pleasing to the eyes. You don't need to apply much makeup because your _natural look_ already brings out the _best_ in you. Like your soft freckles that accent your face or your striking blue eyes which are so pure and divine, shining so crystal-clear like water of a secluded mountain lake."

His eyes were boring into hers so intensely that she stopped breathing for a moment, feeling her heart pounding so hard in her chest he most probably heard it too. Max gulped and her eyes were staring at his now bare torso, revealing his broad shoulders and lower abs.

Something was happening to her and she felt truly powerless to keep herself in check. Her shaking fingers fiddled with the buttons of her blouse and Max swallowed hard, asking him. "Was this your plan all along?"

Her question seemed to amuse him. "Are you perhaps implying I have _ulterior motives_ , Max?"

She blinked. "Do you?"

A challenging smile started to creep onto the curve of his lips as he asked in return."Hmm, why don't you try to _figure this out_ for yourself?"

Max didn't miss the suggestive tone in his voice and immediately felt her cheeks flush crimson. It was crazy. His words and this close proximity affected her greatly. And gosh, his eyes. Those eyes looked at her in a way that made her mouth go dry.

She struggled with her blouse, feeling her fingers were all thumbs. Thankfully Mark helped her, slowly undoing the top button in an unhurried manner while his eyes never left hers. Max could only watch in silence how the second button was opened by his long fingers. Being barely able to breathe, she felt an odd spark of excitement deep inside of her.

"Shh, relax, Max." He told her when his fingers approached the last button. A surprised gasp escaped her lips as his fingertips glided over her shoulders and peeled off the thin fabric, letting it slide down her body.

Mark inhaled her scent deeply and let out a slow breath as he drank her sight in. Desire and appreciation were in his eyes and his voice was barely above a whisper as he stated. "Oh Max, _you_ are truly _purity personified_."

His young muse was at the height of her innocence and beauty. He would finally capture her the way he had always intended. The way it was meant to be. Through his vision he would turn her into a piece of art. A marvelous photograph that would last for eternity and would transcend even time itself.

Only one last obstacle stood between him and his vision. He needed to awaken the emotion in these blue eyes. This is what he sought to capture. Emotion possessed the largest impact and it would make his images truly shine.

Max felt awkward to be this exposed, her bra the only cover from being naked. She instinctively raised her arms to fold them over her chest but Mark stopped her. His hands slid from her shoulders down to her arms and held her firmly, insisting. "Shh, it's alright. Don't hide yourself."

Mark Jefferson was once again reminded of her fragility and he appreciated it for a moment, knowing it wouldn't last. Max would become his protégé soon and her soft skin would have to harden. Her lesson would be to go beyond her limits. Only then would she be able to get closer to her teacher.

He stepped behind her and his arms wrapped around her body, pressing her back against his bare chest. The heat of their bodies rose and his lips almost touched her earlobe as his voice fell into a whisper. "Tell me, Max. What are you afraid of?"

Max narrowed her eyes, admitting in a quiet voice. "Honestly, I'm afraid of my own feelings. That I'm willing to give up my control like that. It's something I've never done before and it kinda scares me."

Mark kissed the top of her head and murmured. "Don't be scared. I know from past experience how hard it is to let your guard down and to open yourself to someone else. I promised you I'd never do anything to hurt you or that might make you feel uncomfortable. Believe me, this growing attraction between us affects me just as much as you. Yet I feel that this strong connection we share is rare and very… special. Listen to your heart, Max. Allow yourself to let go of your doubts and worries."

She took a deep breath and asked the question that had been troubling her in the back of her mind. "Will you... will you shoot me in the _same manner_ like I captured _Nathan_?"

"Max, don't worry. I believe I've already told you it's not my intention to shoot you in an unconscious state. What I need to see is the emotion shining in your eyes and to achieve this I'll have to take _another_ approach."

"Do you recall our forest photo session?" He asked, looking deep into her eyes and his arms still encircling her slender frame.

"Um, yes." Max replied and her stomach twitched nervously. She was unable to think clearly anymore. This was all too much. The heat of his body. The familiar, masculine scent of his sandalwood cologne. That irresistible, soft voice that could effortlessly bring her to her knees. Or that dark, intense look in his eyes that could melt her right there on the spot.

"What would you say if we do it _again_?" He whispered in a husky voice and moved her so that they both faced his camera now.

"Uh..." Max didn't know what to say, her mind was a total mess. The feel of his warm skin against hers overwhelmed her. His index finger began to trace her bottom lip and her ears faintly registered the click of the shutter in front of her.

His palm was on her cheek again, turning her face towards him. Before she knew what was happening, he leaned down and his lips were on hers. Time seemed to stand still but Max also had the impression it went by in an instant. She stopped breathing and her blood was relentlessly pumping in her ears. His unexpected move set her whole body on fire as his warm lips brushed over hers, moving them along her own lips eagerly, almost roughly.

Mark couldn't hold back his craving any longer. His mask was slipping and revealed another side of him. A passionate and hungry side. He needed to feel her. Here and now. His hands drifted down, traveling over every small curve of her body. His careful touch was almost reverent, like a sculptor who could finally lay fingers on his own cherished creation.

The clicking sounds of the shutter just faded away. Both of them had completely forgotten their surroundings and were only focused on each other.

There was nothing gentle in his kiss anymore. It was pure longing that had accumulated after all this time and was finally released upon her. Max let out an involuntary moan. The heat surged through her center when his tongue urged her lips apart to enter her mouth as though he needed to taste and savor her again. His right hand glided into her short hair and stroked her while he pulled away to press his warm lips against her naked skin, placing soft kisses along her neck down to her collarbone.

All her senses were invaded and her body thrilled at the contact as his mouth worshipped her. His scattered kisses burned electric into her, igniting a spark wherever his soft lips caressed her. There was something enticing in the way how his hands and mouth patiently explored her body, making her feel as if she were a goddess in his eyes. A goddess only he could fully adore.

Max shuddered and felt an aching pull at her navel as he was playfully nipping and biting the sensitive skin of her neck with his teeth. His beard tickled her and he tilted his head to the side to observe her, his eyes alight with a strange fascination.

"Oh Christ, look at you... this _pure expression_... You're _breathtaking_ , Max." Max couldn't help but shiver at hearing his compliment, staring helplessly into the black sea of his eyes which seemed to fill her field of vision.

His eyes wandered over her face, he was consumed by this vision before him. The image in his mind how he wanted to capture her had been made reality. She was wide open, exposed for him. The older man could read everything, all her feelings were reflected in her brilliant blue eyes.

Mark caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and she couldn't help but bask in his touch.

He admitted in a quiet tone. "I fear I got a little carried away. I hope I didn't scare you there. It's just that you captivate me in a way that I'm unable to hold myself back any longer. We can stop now and have a look at our shots, cool?"

Max couldn't deny the depth of emotion she felt for him. It was an aching longing, like liquid heat coursing through her veins. She wanted him. It was stronger than anything she had ever felt before in her life and in this moment she only wished she could stay with him tonight, thinking that her dark sensual dreams of him that had been lingering deep inside her mind would finally come true.

She shook her head and placed her hand upon his, pleading. "Please, _don't_. I don't want _this_ to end."

"Are you sure, Max?" He asked in a thick, deep voice, searching her eyes for an answer and knowing there would be no turning back for them now.

Their eyes locked and her breath caught in her throat in anticipation as her reply was a mere whisper. "Yes."

Everything happened as if in slow motion. His strong arms took her and picked her up bridal style. There was an airy feel in her limbs now, like being completely weightless in his arms. The next moment she found herself lying back in is king-size bed. The whole world had turned black and white around her. These were the only colors she could make out in his bedroom.

At first she was very nervous and Mark seemed to sense it of course. It was as if he was treating her like a fragile piece of art, being very gentle and caring towards her. His eyes shone warmly and looked different without his glasses in the darkness. He leaned close to press his lips against hers and pulled her tight against him. Their arms were wrapped around each other as they shared long, lingering kisses. Max soon became light headed and felt the blood rush in her head. It was almost unreal. All these sensations were mounting and starting to overwhelm her. She was lost in the way he devoured her body with his warm hands and soft lips all over her, exploring and caressing every inch of her skin.

Mark played her like an instrument and left her breathless, eliciting quiet moans and whimpers of pleasure and delight. Her entire body responded to his astonishing affections and she felt an incredible heat surge through her. He seemed to love teasing her. Again and again. To bring her close to the verge and let her walk the edge, making his pretty muse shake and tremble beneath him.

Max was helpless before him, enjoying what he did to her while he was losing himself in the feel of her. His lips were tracing her neck again and he smiled against her skin as he heard her soft intake of breath, feeling the quick throbbing of her pulse underneath his touch.

It filled him with a strange satisfaction, knowing that he would be her first. And he wanted her to savor this moment, to let her know just how much she meant to him, how she turned his whole world upside down.

The moment they both became one and Mark made her his, he was completely lost in the tight heat of her body. He had never seen anything like this before. Such perfection.

He allowed himself to succumb to his urges and lost control while he buried himself deep inside of her. Shaky kisses covered her delicate neck and Max could feel a warm pressure building inside her which only grew with each meeting of their hips. The temperature was rising between them and his lips descended upon hers again. The long kiss they shared only seemed to heighten the pulsing sensation. Her own tongue felt heavy against his and she gasped as he finally sent them both over the edge with one last thrust. Her world collapsed around her as she drowned in a great wave of overwhelming pleasure, feeling every single cell in her body explode at once, consumed by a hot, tingling fire. The feeling alone to be filled with this heat intensified the experience thousandfold. It was as if she had found who she belonged to, someone to make her feel absolutely whole and complete.

His dark eyes held hers. It was an intoxicating sight, watching her body and soul surrender to him, seeing a supernova explode in her beautiful blue eyes and witnessing her unravel beneath him.

Mark waited a few moments to let them catch their breath and slowly withdrew from her exhausted body. He took her in his arms and held her close, his forehead resting against hers.

They were lying there in silence with their eyes closed and listening to their own heartbeat and steady breathing.

"Are you alright, Max?" He asked in a quiet tone.

Max shifted in his arms, a shy smile appearing on her lips. "I'm okay. But I don't know what to say."

She stared at him and blushed, trying to search for the right words how to describe this. "That was... _wowsers_."

Mark smiled in return and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering. "Oh, yes. This was quite a pleasurable experience, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it really was." Max breathed and hugged him tighter. She felt so tired that she fell asleep in his embrace within minutes. Mark couldn't take his eyes off of her and watched his sleeping beauty for a while. It had been a long time since he felt this content in his life. He draped the black sheets over them and allowed himself to rest, with Max pressed close to his chest.

* * *

This place felt like the perfect place of retreat. The tiny, shabby pub was located in the outskirts of Arcadia Bay and Nathan could sit here without being noticed by others. Usually it only meant trouble when people recognized the son of Sean Prescott. Sean had ruined many lives here and was also the cause for the high unemployment rate in this small town.

The boy listened to the old jukebox playing another annoying country song and grabbed his glass to down another beer quickly. He only wanted to be alone and forget this shitty day.

But it seemed fate had other plans for him as a loud female voice almost startled him. "Yo, what's up, little rich kid? Haven't seen you in a while."

He turned around and saw Rachel's blue-haired bitch friend and grumbled. "None of your business, punk ass. Leave me!"

The punk girl held up her hands and grinned. "Hey, slow down there. No need to be so pissy, 'kay?"

"What do you want from me, Prince? Need some weed again?" Nathan asked and glared at her with his dark blue eyes.

"It's Price, dude." The punk corrected him and hopped down on the bar stool next to him.

Nathan hissed. "Price or Prince... _What the fuck ever_! How about _dumb punk ass_? That seems to suit you just right."

"Call me whatever you want, Prescott. I only want to talk bidness with you." Price made clear and ordered herself a beer.

"Oh, another bitch who needs my father's money. How much do you need?" He asked in an amused tone, not even thinking for one single second to give her one buck. But still this was kinda fun and he wanted to play this game to see how far she was willing to go.

She grinned and replied. "Three grand would be nice for a start."

" _Three grand_?" Nathan spat, "Are you fucking kidding me?" he snorted and almost dropped his beer bottle in surprise. "What makes you think I'd give you that amount of cash, huh?"

"Well, we both work for Frank. Maybe we could, you know, work _together,_ like partners. I could help you." Price suggested and took a sip from her bottle.

Nathan laughed dismissively. "Oh, you're a funny one, Price. I give you that."

Price gave him a wink. "So, what do you say? The two of us could make hella cash together."

"How about this? I'll invite you to my dorm room and we can discuss the _details_." Nathan proposed and saw this as a great opportunity to capture this punk ass. All he needed were those damn photos of her and Mark would be proud of him again. Maybe he'd even forget the stupid Caulfield bitch. Wouldn't that be great?

He waited and saw her hesitating for a moment. Yet Nathan knew she couldn't resist the bait. They all wanted his precious Prescott money and this bitch wasn't any different than the others.

The punk finally nodded and grinned. "Sounds cool to me. Let's go to your place, rich kid."


	12. Chapter 11: Broken Souls

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 _ **A/N:** First of all sorry it took so long to get a new chapter up. I didn't have much time to write but I hope I can get back to steady updates. Thanks again to everyone who's reading and following this story. And a special thank you goes to lunamoon531, Xander The Prince, tur 1823, Debra Smith, ambernass25, TheFoolishDreamer and FlukeShot for your lovely reviews. You guys made my day and I'm always happy to read your fantastic feedback. :)_

 **Chapter 11: Broken souls**

It was already late at night and Nathan had been so squiffy that he had completely lost track of time. Standing in front of his own dorm room door now he needed a moment to focus on the task at hand. The young man cursed under his breath and fumbled with his many keys. Price stood right next to him, her arms folded over her chest and a look of impatience written all over her face.

"I can help you with that, dude." The blue-haired girl offered and came closer yet Nathan just raised his eyes to glare at her in annoyance. He wasn't that wasted and could still manage to open this fucking door. At least that's what he hoped. The rich boy didn't want to look like an incompetent fool in front of this punk. He still had his pride and he was a fucking Prescott, for fuck's sake, not a fool.

' _It's alright, bro. You got this. It's cool_.' He told himself over and over again and finally found the right key for his damn door.

"Come, Price. Make yourself comfortable." He gestured her to follow him and hopped on his sofa, casually throwing his red jacket on the nearest chair.

The Price girl stepped inside reluctantly and looked around, giving him a crooked smile.

She pointed at his bdsm pictures and his monochrome shots projected on the white wall behind him. "You really have a weird taste, rich kid. And why the hell is it so dark in here?"

"I _need_ darkness. It calms me. That and whale songs." Nathan shrugged and fished a cigarette out of his jeans pocket.

Price walked over to his many cabinets and studied his huge dvd movie collection, murmuring. "So Sergeant Pepper mentioned the other day you supposedly have a secret stash hidden here. Is that true?"

He raised an eyebrow and his body became very tense. "Why do you ask? Do you want to snitch on me or what?"

"Hey, chill out, dude. Just to be clear on this, I hate my step-ass and I'm not interested in his gathering enemy intelligence bullshit, 'kay? It would be cool to have some pot though, you know? We could both relax a bit and have some... _real_ _fun_ together." She proposed and gave him a suggestive wink, sitting down and joining him on the couch now.

Nathan smiled when he detected her nervousness. The blue-haired girl tried so hard to appear cool and tough but he could see right through her facade. The hints were all there. The way she chose to sit at the far end of the couch to keep her distance or how her eyes wandered around the room all the time as if she was searching for something. It amused him somehow to have this punk here in his room. Lookswise Price was the exact opposite of him, dressed in ripped jeans with a white skull shirt and a dark blue beanie upon her head. Sean would surely go nuts if he knew his son was hanging out with such a wretched punk girl. Not a suitable company for a Prescott, he'd say.

' _So predictable. She probably thinks I'm so wasted that she can easily steal some Prescott money here. What a dumb bitch_.' He thought and grabbed a tiny plastic bag which was hidden beneath his coffee table.

Nathan gave her his secret grass reserve and grinned. "There you go, Price. Have _fun_."

"What about you? Don't you wanna smoke anything?" She asked and took out some weed for herself.

He held up his cigarette and beer bottle, assuring her in an cheerful tone. "I'm cool for now."

Nathan watched the punk preparing her joint and remarked. "I didn't know Madsen is your step-dad. Must be annoying to live under the same roof with that prick."

Chloe grimaced and sighed. "Yeah, Rambo is an asshole and I wish I could get rid of him somehow." She gave him a weak smile now and added. "Well, I guess we both could start a club. The club of unlucky people who have some shithead fathers."

He handed her a beer and raised his bottle, laughing. " _Shithead fathers..._ Mmm, I like that term. Let's drink to _that_."

They smiled at each other and took a swig of their booze. The punk girl enjoyed her joint now, slowly inhaling and exhaling, tasting the bittersweet scent on her tongue and noting. "You know, for a spoiled little rich kid you're not so bad, Prescott."

"You're not so bad either, Price. Although I have to say I never really liked you." Nathan admitted and stared at his new Romantics poster, lost in his own thoughts. There was a deep hatred within him. A hate towards everyone who Rachel Amber had loved. As if he had never been good enough for the DA's daughter. Or maybe he had lacked something that the others like Bowers or Price possessed. It was hard to say. But it also didn't matter to him anymore. The only thing that mattered was that he hated this damn feeling to be insignificant. He had always been Rachel's _friend_ , yes, but nothing more. So what was so special about this stupid punk ass here that Rachel often knew only one topic, talking endlessly about that one particular bitch and nobody else?

Chloe grinned and placed her palm on her chest in an exaggerated manner, joking. "You really hurt my feelings, Prescott. I thought everyone loves us crazy punk girls. I'm curious now. What is it that you don't like about me, huh?"

Nathan narrowed his eyes, rested his elbows on his knees and whispered as though he was sharing a secret. "It's _Rachel_."

" _Rachel_? Like Rachel Amber?" The punk repeated in a surprised tone.

"She clearly loved your little punk ass. Didn't she?" He scoffed, unable to hide his obvious jealousy towards her in his sour voice.

"Duh, so what? Wait a sec, don't tell me you..." she blinked and her eyes became wide. "Don't tell me you had a crush on her too, Prescott."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, please, don't give me that look. Sean had been certain she'd be the partner I needed. That she would have been the perfect gf for me. The daughter of the DA, cool, intelligent and witty. And let's not forget that she was the most beautiful and most popular girl at our school. Of course I fell for her. It's funny, isn't it? That there's always something you want and you know you can never have it. Yet nonetheless you do everything you can to have it in your possession."

Chloe commented in a dry tone. "You kinda sound like an obsessed weirdo there or like some creepy stalker dude. But I get what you mean. You know, I wanted Rachel to be with me. _Only me_. It took me some time to finally realize that she never really belonged to me. She never really belonged to anyone, I guess."

For a moment Nathan paused to ponder her words and didn't say anything to that. He knew in his heart she was right. They all loved Rachel in their own way. Frank, Chloe, Mark and yes, even he himself felt drawn to her. There was something in her that made him want to possess her, to dominate her. It was an irresistible aura which attracted everyone to her. But this girl was different, unique. Rachel wasn't someone who would give her heart to one single person. She was free like the wind, always blowing in many different directions. You can't hold air and Rachel Amber would always slip out of your hands. Maybe that was also one of the reasons why he had to kidnap her. To have her solely for himself, to make sure that she couldn't escape his grasp.

' _I had you, Rachel. Not for long but I had you. And I'll never forget that you were mine in that room_. _You hated that, didn't you, Rach? I could see it in the way you looked at me with your eyes full of hate. But deep inside I know you've enjoyed our session just as much as I did_.' Nathan thought and cleared his throat. "You're right about Rachel, Price. And you knew her better than anyone of us. Are you... _still looking_ for her? Did you find any clues on her whereabouts?"

The punk shook her head and sighed, resignation in her voice. "I found nothing so far. But I still have hope she's somewhere out there. Damn it, it's like I'm _cursed_. Every person I've ever loved just left me. My dad, my best friend and now Rachel. I hate this fucking shithole. This shitty town has taken everything away from me. I sometimes wish I could just drop a bomb on Arcadia Bay and turn it to fucking glass."

He smirked and agreed. "Oh, I know that feeling. It would feel so satisfying to blow everything up, right?"

She winked at him. "Yup, I'd have hella fun to play the goddess of destruction for just one night. I'd have a blast and my stepdouche would be the first I'd turn to fucking ash."

Nathan chuckled. "Good choice. I'd pick Sean as my first victim too. Just imagine his dumb face when his precious Prescott residence would go up in flames. I'd kill to see that shit!"

"You're kinda scary, dude. But I _like that_." Chloe nodded with a grin and took one last drag on her fresh rolled joint.

He got up from the couch and fetched two new beer bottles. One beer had been prepared by him in advance and contained a GHB dose mixed with muscle relaxant. It should be enough to get her unconscious. Though one tiny part of him didn't want to do this. He had to admit this girl was fun to hang out with. Maybe he felt this way because they both had so much in common. Shitty dads and sharing this anger at the whole world for treating them like failures. Price didn't really deserve what he was about to do to her. Still, he needed those photos to prove his worth to his mentor. This was what he wanted the most. Mark's praise and approval. No one would stop him to achieve his goals. Not the annoying Caulfield bitch and certainly not this dumb punk ass.

"Guess it's about time we talk business, okay?" He suggested and offered her the beer bottle. His face was a mask and didn't betray his intent, yet his hands were sweaty and slightly shaking.

The punk didn't seem to suspect anything and eagerly grabbed the bottle with a content look on her face. "Can't wait to make hella cash, Prescott."

"Why do you even need so much money? Are you in debt?" Nathan wanted to know and opened his own bottle.

Chloe Price grimaced and explained. "I've made a mistake and borrowed some cash from Frank. I did this so Rachel and I could finally bail outta here."

"I get it. And now you need _my money_ to pay off Bowers. Great plan, Price." He commented in a dismissive tone.

"What? Do you have any better ideas, smartass?" She asked, taking a few sips and her long fingers playing with the bottle cap of her beer.

Nathan tried to point out the obvious. "Well, it's one thing to be in debt. But it's an entirely different matter to be in debt to a _Prescott_. I thought you're clever enough to know _that_."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Trust me, rich kid. I'm even _more_ clever than you are. I know what I'm doing, 'kay? So will you give me your fucking money or not?"

"Don't worry. You'll get your money. But first you'll have to tell me the details how you think our partnership should work." He demanded to know and leaned back on the sofa, his dark-blue eyes regarding her impatiently, waiting for the drug to work its magic.

' _Fuck, seems it takes forever till she's out cold_.' The thought made him a little nervous. There was still a slight chance that she could suddenly decide to leave his room and that would surely interfere with his plans. It was even possible that she could pass out outside and Madsen's security dogs would find her immediately. That was way too risky.

The girl frowned and didn't give him an answer right away. Her right hand went up to rub her forehead and she murmured. "I feel kinda strange. Hope I'm not drunk. I still need to drive back."

"No problem. I can call a cab if you want." Nathan assured her and kept his eyes on her. Putting drugs in drinks was one of his most important jobs at a Vortex Club party. So he knew exactly how to proceed. And drugging this punk here wasn't any different. Price was actually an easy target. She didn't know what was going on here and he'd soon have her where he wanted to have her. Lying unconscious on his expensive designer carpet and being ready for his little photography session. Mark would be so proud of him.

The bottle dropped from her hand and fell down to the ground. A large, wet stain was forming on the floor and she managed to utter a quick sorry. Nathan watched her struggle with her own body and tried to remain calm. It wouldn't take much longer now. She was almost there.

"Something's not right. Did you... _drug me_? What is this _shit_? A _laxative_?" Her voice was strained and she had trouble to breathe. Price tried to get up but Nathan stopped her and threw her back against the couch.

He held her arm in a tight grip and warned her. "Stay where you are, bitch! We're not finished here yet!"

"Fuck, _don't touch me_ , you sick psycho!" Chloe yelled and fought with him, trying to break free. But her efforts only seemed to speed up the drug's effects. Her struggles were already growing weaker, and within a few minutes she went limp against him. The punk was no longer able to stay conscious and sank down like a heavy sack, all her strength leaving her exhausted body.

"I've told you to stay where you fucking are. That's what you get if you don't listen to me, ho." Nathan sneered and pulled her closer to check her condition.

Something didn't seem right. The punk's face was very pale and her pupils were enlarged. His eyes went wide when he also noticed saliva mixed with blood dripping down from the corners of her open mouth. These side effects weren't supposed to happen. Nathan shook his head in panic and took her wrist in his trembling hands to examine her pulse. It was low.

"Fuck it! Are you fucking kidding me? Not _again_!" He screamed in disbelief and hurried to find his damn cellphone in his jacket pocket.

" _Shit_! Mark will _kill me_!" He muttered, his fingers nervously gliding over the small display screen and selecting his teacher's number.

He hesitated for a few seconds, his gaze moving back and forth between his phone and the unconscious body of the Price girl. His mind was a total mess right now as he tried to figure out what to do next. ' _I have no other choice. I have to call him or she'll die like Rachel. And you don't want to bury another dead body again. Do you, bro?_ '

* * *

The loud buzzing noise of his cellphone caused him to wake up from his peaceful sleep, his right hand reaching out and searching for the source of this disturbance. Mark Jefferson rose up and stared blindly into the darkness. His other hand found the silken sheet and traveled further until he reached her face. Max was with him, lying on her side, eyes closed and half a smile on her precious lips. He grabbed his phone while his attentive eyes never left her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest with the cycle of her breathing. His Maxine looked so relaxed and at ease. The moonlight's pale glow shone through the windows and illuminated her features. The faint light made her more beautiful than he had ever seen her before.

How he would have loved to gather her close to his chest now and to bury his face in her brown hair, to feel the sweet warmth of her body and smell her familiar coconut and strawberry scent. Mark had this feeling that spending time with Max was slowly changing him. For once in his life, his mind was void of his plans and his obsession for photography. Yes, capturing a model as he envisioned it in his mind gave him a feeling of elation, of accomplishment, of fulfillment. Nothing ever came close to being filled with such enthusiasm.

But this night with Max, it was magical. What he had felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before. That moment when he felt himself deep inside her, when they breathlessly stared at each other in the silence of the night, ready and willing to give the whole of themselves to each other. He had been enraptured by the mere sight of her and couldn't fathom the flawless beauty that was looking back at him. At this moment Mark had allowed himself to let his walls come down, to drown himself in passion and pleasure. It felt like drowning in a sea he had never been before. A sea in which he wished to drown in forever. A sea of nothing but only Maxine. That one single moment the world around him had become non-existent as if time itself had stopped for them. The only thing that seemed to exist here was her and him.

It irritated him greatly that someone dared to ruin this wonderful and special night. Mark looked away reluctantly and turned his attention to his phone display, tapping the small screen to accept the call. Although his voice sounded quiet, there was also a coldness there, a hint of displeasure as he began. "Bobby, how often do I have to tell you not to call me at this late hour. Do you know the time here? It's almost 3 am."

A long pause followed and he could only hear restless breathing on the other end of the line. Without any doubt his agent was a good and competent man but sometimes his unexpected calls could be really bothersome. Especially when Bob decided to contact him at a time like this, most likely assuming that Mark was still awake and working.

To his surprise a young male voice broke the silence and it wasn't the voice of the person he expected to hear. "Mark, I'm sorry, man. Please, listen. I-I really need your help."

The older man frowned and immediately tightened his grip on his phone. He kept his eyes on Max's sleeping form and sighed. "Look, I can't talk here right now. So what is it?"

"It's..." Nathan stopped as if he wasn't so sure anymore to ask his teacher for help or not.

"Tell me what's going on or I'll hang up the phone and go back to sleep again. I don't have time for this bullshit right now." Mark announced in a warning tone, already worrying that Max might wake up and listen in on their conversation. His new muse was wary of the Prescott boy and she also didn't like the fact that Nathan was his other private student. There was no need to create more tension between them here. His index finger gently traced the contour of her beautiful face, already having this gut feeling that he would have to leave her tonight.

The kid's voice sounded almost shrill and he could sense the urgency when he started. "I tried to prepare my... model. You know, the substitute model you asked me to-to find. But-but something went wrong. I don't know what happened but she doesn't look good. Fuck, the dose wasn't too high this time and still... I know you're angry but please... _please_ , can you come over and take a look?"

Anger was welling up inside him and he was barely able to contain it. What was going on here? He had thought Nathan wouldn't be stupid enough to make any new mistakes and once more he had been proven wrong. The boy was a ticking time bomb and he was on the brink of fucking everything up again.

' _I should have killed him right then and there in the classroom. The kid is a fucking liability. If this goes on like that we'll both end up in jail or worse_.' Mark thought and fought hard with himself to stay calm now. He knew he had to go there, his entire focus had to be on harm reduction. They couldn't afford having another missing person in Arcadia Bay. That would draw too much unnecessary attention and they needed to avoid these complications, especially after that whole damn Rachel Amber incident.

"I'm coming. Where are you?" Mark asked, trying to keep his voice low not to disturb Max's sleep.

"At my dorm room." The boy replied quickly.

"Okay, I'm on my way." The teacher wanted to get up but a warm hand caught his wrist and slender fingers wrapped around it firmly, stopping him in his movements.

"Mark? What happened?" Her quiet voice sounded very tired and he took her in his arms to soothe her. Max clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go and he breathed in her presence, whispering into her softly scented hair. "Shh, it's alright, Max. I promise, I won't be gone for long, okay?"

"But _why_? It's still early in the morning..." She murmured, rubbing her eyes and apparently being confused, not wanting to see him leave.

"I've received an urgent phone call and I have to go to Blackwell _now_. It might be an emergency. But I don't know all the details... yet." Mark explained in an apologetic manner and rested his cheek lightly on her head.

Max looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with worry, searching his brown ones in the darkness. "Please, let _me_ come with you."

But he shook his head in return and bent down for a kiss while his fingers touched her cheek in the softest caress. When Mark broke the kiss he placed his hand on top of hers and pressed it against his cheek, smiling down at her. "Max, you've endured so much lately and you really need your rest. Don't forget, I have many responsibilities as a teacher and this is Blackwell duty. I really don't want to involve you or having you deal with my problems, okay?"

Max wanted to protest but he silenced her again with another kiss, murmuring against her lips in a suggestive tone. "Don't worry, Max. I'll be back soon and I assure you I'll compensate for our lost time in ways you can't even begin to imagine."

He smirked noticing her reaction. His Maxine became clearly flustered and even in the dark he could detect how her pretty face changed color. Another captivating sight that he would always cherish and recall in his memories.

* * *

When the art teacher arrived at Nathan Prescott's dorm room door at last, he took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly. At times like these he had to control his emotions, to keep a clear head. After a few knocks on the wooden door the boy quickly opened and led him inside. Nathan averted his gaze, a look of exhaustion all over his face as if he had been forced to stay awake after several sleepless nights.

The older man entered the small room, his intent eyes trying to assess the whole situation. His mind began to work like a clockwork, his observant eyes taking every single detail in. Nathan's model was lying unconscious on the black leather couch. There was an open beer bottle on the floor, staining the expensive, dark-blue wool carpet. It occurred to him that Nathan seemed to have some taste. The beer's brand was _The Abyss_ , known for its almost immeasurable depth and complexity with hints of molasses, licorice and other alluring flavors. Mark enjoyed whiskey far more than beer but he'd never say no to beer brewed in Oregon.

He knelt beside the girl and put on his vinyl gloves out of habit. Although she wasn't _his_ _model_ he would still treat her with utmost care.

"And who do we have here?" Mark wanted to know and studied her unfamiliar face. It always thrilled him like nothing else to watch young women like her in this state. Unconscious, defenseless, frail, vulnerable and bare before his scrutinizing eyes. She looked so fragile, like a delicate porcelain figurine that was about to fall and shatter if he wasn't careful enough. He reached out and carefully took her arm in his hands to check her pulse with his eyes still fixed on her face.

Nathan instantly flinched when he heard Mark speaking in this intimidating, commanding tone and lowered his head immediately. He couldn't look at these dark, intense eyes. Not now.

"Her name... is _Chloe Price_." The Prescott boy stammered with a weak, defeated voice and he suddenly wished he could find a place to hide from this man. There was this nagging feeling that his mentor would never forgive his latest fuck up. This could be his end. The last day of his shitty, miserable life. Nathan didn't have any strength left to fight his teacher anymore. Whatever happened to him this night, he was sure he deserved it somehow. After all _this_ was all his fault.

"Chloe Price..." Mark whispered thoughtfully. That name rang a bell. Who was this girl? She didn't attend one of his art classes and he was fairly certain that he had never seen her at Blackwell Academy before either. Then it began to dawn on him who she might be.

 _A blue-haired punk girl with a fierce fire in her sapphire eyes_. That was how Rachel Amber had described her beloved girlfriend.

They had so many countless conversations about Chloe Elizabeth Price that he sometimes had this feeling he knew this girl just as much as Rachel did. There were also moments when he had felt a sudden urge to find and meet this remarkable young woman himself. Rachel's stories about her rebellious, stubborn character paired with a deep pain inside of her, losing her father at a very young age, they caught his attention and made him curious. When he thought about Chloe Price, the image of a blue bird with broken wings instantly came to his mind.

Hurt and sorrow... They were both strong emotions that fascinated and intrigued him too. Chloe could have been an intriguing model but she didn't really match his criteria, his image of purity and innocence. No, this poor girl was already tainted by the cruel world surrounding her. Her experiences had made her bitter, pessimistic and resentful of life. That unique spark in her blue eyes was gone together with all her hopes and dreams. And losing her friend Rachel was the final nail of her coffin. It irrevocably broke her soul and left deep emotional scars behind.

' _Now I see why you chose her, Nate. She's a broken soul. Just like you_.' Mark thought and recalled his eventful time as an aspiring photographer in Seattle. When Nirvana made grunge, the so-called Seattle sound popular in the early 90s, the entire city had been crowded with hundreds of these punk rock fans dressed in their ragged clothes. While it had been fun to take pictures of these drunk punk girls, he soon grew tired of them because he knew in his heart that these weren't the images he sought to capture.

That was also one of the reasons why he never really entertained the idea to frame Chloe Price in his dark room. He had seen enough girls like her in his Seattle days. Girls who had given up on life yet also wore this unfaltering expression on their faces as if they didn't want to give up so soon, desperately clinging to a last small shred of hope.

Nathan leaned against the wall, his hoarse voice interrupting Mark's thoughts. "So, what's her condition? Can you use this... IV tube thingy again to help her?"

Mark frowned and arched an eyebrow, replying in a dry tone. "Do you you think I carry such a tube with me all the time, Nate? The one I used on Max was intended for emergency cases only. I also doubt an intravenous drip will help her anymore in this critical condition. It seems she suffers from a drug overdose. I know you've assured me that you've administered a lower dose this time. But it seems you forgot to ask her which drugs she took herself or how much alcohol she drank before she arrived at your place. I fear Miss Price needs urgent medical assistance. _Now_."

"You want _me_ to call the ambulance? Are you fucking kidding me?" Nathan asked disbelievingly and interlaced his fingers, pressing his hands together until his knuckles began to hurt.

This would only cause more trouble for him and Sean would be the first to get to hear about this. He didn't need this shit right now. It would be Samantha Myers all over again. Sean had been furious when his son had forcefully pushed his friend Samantha to the asphalt ground during an argument, breaking two of her ribs in the process. And Nathan would never forget Sean's annoyed face in the hospital, that look of disappointment darkening his features because he had to defend his son's unwanted behavior again. A son who wasn't able to follow in his father's footsteps. Nathan fucking Prescott, the disgrace of the Prescott family.

Mark Jefferson inspected her enlarged pupils and sighed, scratching his beard with his fingers. "As I see it, you have two options. You either let her die here and we bury her corpse next to her lover tonight or you call an ambulance which might save her life. I'd strongly advise you to choose option two, Nate. Another missing person in Arcadia Bay is one thing. But if this new missing person is connected to Rachel Amber, it will cause quite a commotion and we don't need that shit right now. Do you _understand_?"

A sudden dizziness overcame him. The blue carpet beneath his feet seemed to shift under him and his head was starting to spin. He had hoped Mark could help him and save Price's life. And now it all depended on him, on his decision if Price would live to see another day or not.

It was out of the question to let her die here. This wasn't reconcilable with what was left of his conscience. He didn't need Chloe Price to haunt him in his nightmares together with Rachel. That would surely break him once and for all.

Nathan sighed and lowered himself into the chair at his desk, nodding at his teacher. "You're right. I'll call the ambulance."

"Very good, Nate. You should also contact Sean. Let your old man do all the work for us and let him take care of everything, okay?" Mark gave him that warm, fatherly smile to calm the boy. The kid was already a mess and the best course of action was to give him reassurance. A scared partner drowning in nauseating regret, guilt and self doubt, fighting his inner emotional turmoil was the last thing he needed right now.

To him it was far more important to set his entire focus on Max Caulfield. What Max needed was someone who could understand her on a higher level. Someone who could truly appreciate her for who she was. Someone who could share every aspect of her life and someone mature who would love her in a way she needed to be loved. All these Blackwell teenagers could never truly understand her or see in her what he was able to see. They were all blind and didn't deserve her. No, the only one Max needed in her life was him. And he needed to open her eyes to realize this herself.

The time to get rid of Nathan was drawing closer and he needed a new partner as soon as possible. He might even be forced to accelerate his plans although he would have preferred to reveal his true self to Max slowly. To have the time to ease her in, to gently expose her, fragment by fragment to the person he was. There was no turning back now and he knew this could cost him everything. His chess game had become a gamble but he also knew he had no other choice.

' _Let's see how the dice will fall_.' Mark thought and turned his attention back to Nathan.

The suggestion felt like a punch to Nathan's stomach, leaving his head ringing and the room spinning around him. He wanted Sean to stay out of this shit although he knew that it was impossible.

Nathan stared at him, being surprised that his own voice sounded so loud and defiant in his own ears. " _Fuck Sean Prescott_! I _won't_ call him!"

The older male couldn't help but laugh at Nathan's ridiculous teenage outburst and reminded him. "Sean is going to find out about this eventually so it doesn't really matter what _you_ want or don't want, Nate."

Though he appeared calm and quiet on the outside, he was slowly starting to lose his patience with Nathan, struggling with himself to hold back his anger.

Mark approached his protégé and looked down at him. His brown, almost black eyes were intense and threatening and there was a finality in his voice that wouldn't allow any further objections. " _Call him_."

Nathan trembled in his seat and only nodded in response. His nervous hands fumbled with his cellphone and he almost jumped from his chair when his art teacher placed a hand on his shoulder, adding. "And I hope you still took some pictures of our dear Miss Price here. We're artists, Nate. We should never let an opportunity to create true art go to waste."

* * *

After Mark had left her alone Max had tried to get some rest but she couldn't. She missed him, his familiar scent, the feel of his warmth. Once again she wondered why he had to return to Blackwell on such short notice. Their date and this night they shared together, it felt so surreal to her, like a dream come true.

' _What would Chloe say if she knew I've slept with my photography teacher? Would she be disgusted or would she laugh and make fun of me? Would she even understand this? These feelings I have for Mark?_ ' She asked herself for a moment and pushed that thought away quickly. She was used being together with Mark, even sometimes forgetting the fact that he was her teacher, that their relationship was wrong on so many levels. Yet, she didn't regret what had happened between them. Max had wanted _this_. She had wanted _him_.

Just recalling this night in her mind made her blush again. It had been her first time and Mark had been aware of it. He had been patient and generous with her, giving her the time she needed to relax, to feel at ease with him. She had the impression that it felt important to him for her to enjoy this new experience to the fullest by taking the reins, guiding her and also keeping in mind to use protection. As if he didn't want her to worry about anything this night.

For a few seconds doubts had crossed her mind because she hadn't been completely certain she had been ready for this. It had felt like a rite of passage when she had offered herself to him.

Max remembered the feel of his lips as he had kissed her smooth skin and his tongue had gently caressed her as though he had been tasting her flesh. At this moment she had drowned in his passion, she had been overwhelmed by it. The sensation of Mark's hot breath against her neck had caused her to melt beneath him. The young woman had wanted nothing more than to surrender to his caresses, to succumb to him, to let him devour her.

There had been no need for words. The only sound in the bedroom was the sound of their fast breathing. Everything had been quiet and still as they had looked into each other's eyes in silence as if they had been able to understand each other without words.

When he had been fully on top of her with his warm hands exploring her body, she had been surprised how passionate Mark could really be. Max always had this impression that he held himself back somehow as if he had been trying to control himself, not wanting to unleash his own emotions. But this night something had changed and his mask had slipped.

He had consumed her very slowly with a passionate fire burning in his brown eyes. It was this same look of fascination and intensity whenever he had admired one of her pictures. Although it had hurt the first time he had entered her, the ache had soon turned into pleasure and she had craved fulfillment as he had moved inside her. The pleasure had begun to devour her entire soul as she had felt him deeper within her, becoming one with him. That one moment when they had both reached the height of their passion had felt incredible. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. A moment she had wished would last forever.

Her eyes moved to the empty spot where he had slept, her fingers touching the soft pillow where his head had rested.

"Where are you, Mark?" She whispered in the darkness and to her surprise a hand cupped her face, a familiar soft voice whispering to her. "I'm right _here_ , Max."

Max leaned into his touch and looked up at him. His brown eyes were full of longing and desire. Once again she had this feeling to be someone special in his eyes. How was Mark able to make her shiver with every touch? To devour her soul with a single kiss? There was a power he had over her. It was irresistible, electrifying, magnetizing. Nothing made her feel like this.

A soft, content sigh escaped her lips when she soon felt his fingers running through her hair, caressing her tenderly, lulling her into a feeling of serenity. "I've missed you." Max murmured and she closed her eyes as she nuzzled against his chest. This was what she loved the most, being so close to him like this, so close to _his heart_.

"And I couldn't wait to get back to you." He replied. His voice was so faint and quiet that it almost sounded like a silent whisper in her ears.

Mark pulled her closer into a tight embrace and she surrendered to his arms as she let her body press firmly against his. He took her face in both of his hands and looked deep into her eyes, telling her in a strange low voice. "Max... I want you to remember _this_. Remember how you felt tonight. Remember my eyes, how they appreciated every facet of your beauty. Remember this feeling of my skin against yours. This feeling of me _inside you_. How we made love under the moonlight. This night was truly special and I want you to remember it all."

Max blushed and nodded. "I'll never forget. I promise."

He seemed to study her face for a moment and suddenly wrapped his arms around her again. His head dipped down and he kissed her. His soft lips brushed gently, like velvet, across her own, stroking hers in a timed rhythm. Her whole body tingled at the sensation. His warm mouth was the sweetest thing she had ever felt. And the longer their kiss lasted, the more she felt every fiber of her body burning. Their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests as their kisses grew more passionate now, both consuming each other. Mark broke their kiss momentarily to admire her flushed face, his brown eyes shining in the darkness, speaking in a hushed tone. "It's so dark I can barely see you. But I don't need any light here because you're the _only light_ I need in my life, Max."

* * *

The bedroom was bathed by the warm sun's morning light and Max woke up, feeling a light kiss on her forehead. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times, shielding her eyes from the bright light.

"Good morning, Max." He smiled at her and brushed some strands of her brown hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear, suggesting. "How about you taking a relaxing shower while I'll prepare our breakfast? Hmm, what do you say?"

His brown eyes reflected the sunlight that shone through the huge glass windows and this look in his eyes instantly caused her stomach to stir in some kind of deep intoxication.

"Sounds good to me." She mumbled and smiled shyly in return.

A warm shower was just what the young woman needed right now and she wasn't surprised to find out he possessed one of these huge, expensive hydro massage showers. Standing inside the large shower cabin she needed a moment to figure out how this all worked. There was a touch panel offering many different functions like neck and back massage, a steam bath, cascade or rain shower with various relaxation options, numerous color cycles and even wellness music.

' _Wowsers! Mark must love to shower like this_.' Max thought and chose a rain shower with an additional massage where powerful jets relaxed her fatigued muscles. As hot water and steam surrounded her, she somehow wished that the Blackwell dorms would have these kind of showers too. There were often times where she hated to have to go to the girls bathroom in the morning. It was always crowded and noisy or even worse, sometimes the water turned cold all of a sudden when other students brushed their teeth at the sink. One time there was even no water at all and they had to call Samuel to fix this. Blackwell was a prestigious school but Max often wondered where all the money went. She hoped Principal Wells would at least make good on his promise to reconstruct the buildings to make it accessible for students with disabilities.

Max couldn't resist the temptation and took a while longer than usual, enjoying the water on her skin and feeling the sequential massage refresh her body.

When she was finished and entered the living room, a delicious smell filled her nostrils.

"Come in, Max. You must be starving." Mark pulled out a chair for her and gestured her to sit. The dining table was set with a mix of local and also french breakfast. There was coffee, juices, fruits, baguettes, croissants, brioche buns or madeleines served together with butter, jam or french cheese. But there was also bacon and eggs with toast, bagels and pancakes.

"Wowser, this is really much. I don't know what to choose first." Max breathed, staring at this wide selection in awe.

Mark laughed, seemingly amused by her reaction and sitting down next to her. "Just pick what you like to eat."

"Do you prefer french breakfast?" Max wanted to know and took a slice of the warm baguette.

He winked at her. "I don't really have any preferences but yes, you could say french food is also one of my many addictions."

Max took a bite and enjoyed the french bread with some jam on top of it, nodding."Yeah, I can see why. It's really tasty."

They ate in silence for a while and Mark sipped his coffee while reading articles of today's Arcadia Bay Beacon newspaper.

The question still occupied her mind why he had to leave her in the middle of the night and Max thought this might be a good time to address this issue. It took her a moment to collect herself to ask him this because she also worried this might be none of her business.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her dish. "So, what happened this morning? Was it an emergency?"

Mark folded the newspaper and put it away, turning his attention to her. "It was, Max. A former Blackwell student had visited a friend and had collapsed in his dorm room. The emergency doctor told me it might be caused by a drug overdose."

"Oh, that's horrible." She said, already thinking that this person was probably a former member of the Vortex Club. Only students of that stupid club had this reputation to get wasted like this.

"Do you know who this student is?" Max asked him, assuming it had to be someone she didn't know.

"I believe her name is Chloe. Yes, Chloe Price." He replied.

" _Chloe Price_?" She echoed, her eyes becoming wide and lifting her hand to cover her mouth. A sudden shock overwhelmed her and she couldn't believe what he had just said.

"Is everything alright, Max? You're pale as a ghost. Do you know _this Chloe Price_?" His attentive eyes studied her, a concerned look all over his face.

' _This is a nightmare. It can't be... Not her, not Chloe..._ ' Max thought, her whole world crumbling down when she heard him say that name.

"Yes, I-I know her. She's... _my best friend_. Do you remember? The girl I told you about, the one I never saw again after I had to move to Seattle." Max croaked, feeling a huge lump in her throat because she worried this might all be her fault. If she had contacted Chloe sooner, if she would have been there for her, then maybe all of this would have never happened.

"Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Max." Mark placed a hand on her back and rubbed it gently, trying his best to comfort her.

This was all too much. It felt like losing the ground underneath her feet. As if everything had changed from one second to the other. Max couldn't eat anymore, all her thoughts were about Chloe, hoping that she was okay.

Her mouth had turned dry and she feared to ask the next question, swallowing hard. "Do-Do you know anything... about her condition?"

Mark shook his head and sighed. "I'm afraid, no. I know nothing."

Max narrowed her eyes and became silent. Not knowing anything made it even worse in her eyes.

Mark must have sensed her uneasiness and took her in his arms, saying in a soothing tone. "Shh, it's okay, Max. Come, I can drop you off at the hospital on my way to school. And don't worry, I'll talk to Principal Wells. I'm sure he'll show sympathy for your situation."

The young student already felt the tears welling in her eyes. Mark always tried to help her and he was always there for her. She was so grateful to have him in her life.

Max nodded and mumbled numbly. "Thank you. I-I really appreciate it. You're always helping me and I..."

"Don't worry about it, okay? You have to stay strong now and be there for your friend. I think now is the time she might need you the most." He told her and squeezed her hand.

She looked up at him and breathed. "Really, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I'll always be there for you, Max." Mark assured her with a soft voice and she knew it was true. This man would always support her and have her back, being ready to catch her if she was about to fall.

* * *

Max disliked hospitals and Arcadia Bay's hospital wasn't an exception. The moment she entered the white building, she smelled the lemon cleaners and antiseptic in the air, mixed with food smells of several room trays. After inquiring Chloe's room number at the reception, she went up the stairs to reach the second floor. Her nervousness and anxiety reached its peak when she finally arrived at her room. For a minute she just stood there with her hand on the door knob as if she needed to gather all her strength and courage to get inside this damn room.

Then, without warning the door opened and Chloe's mother Joyce stood in front of her. Max realized that Joyce hadn't really changed that much. Yes, she looked a bit older but she still wore that same waitress uniform from the Two Whales Diner and had that same caring look on her face.

"If it isn't Max Caulfield. Oh my, you've become a lovely young woman." The blond-haired woman said with a noticeable southern accent and seemed genuinely surprised to meet her here.

"Hi Joyce. I'm happy to see you again. It's been a long time and I'm sorry that I couldn't visit or call you sooner." Max tried to smile, feeling bad again that she had to leave the Price family at a time when they had needed her the most.

"Don't think about it. You're here now and that's all that matters. Chloe _needs you_ and I'm sure she'll be..." Joyce couldn't say any more words. She excused herself and averted her eyes, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

Max embraced her and her voice was almost breaking. "I'm so sorry, Joyce. I know I should have been here for Chloe. I-I don't know what to say."

Joyce shook her head and gave her a sad smile. "I know, darling. Look, it's not your fault. Chloe is living her life and you're living yours. You see, she hit all the phases. Expulsion, running away, bad boys, tattoos, piercings, blue hair and worst of all those damn drugs. You moved forward with your life while Chloe still clung to the past and chose to stay angry. There was nothing I could do and believe me, I've tried _everything_."

"How is she? What does the doctor in charge say?" Max asked, not really knowing anything about Chloe's condition.

The older woman let out a bitter laugh. "See, that's the _problem_. Everything these doctors say is this gibberish that no one understands except them. Well, all we know is that Chloe is in a coma, caused by a drug overdose."

Max thought she had been prepared for everything but these news shocked her to the core and a thousand questions were whirling inside her mind now. "Oh, my god. How bad is it? Will she wake up again?"

Joyce Price sighed. "They said an overdose coma usually resolves fairly quickly after the drug substances have been removed from her body. It can take a few days, they say, maybe not more than four weeks. But there's also the possibility that this coma can lead to a vegetative state or even... brain death. They said they will monitor her condition and perform brain scans. Then we'll hopefully know more."

Max nodded at that and wanted to ask more but they were suddenly interrupted by loud male voices coming from Chloe's room.

"Oh no, not again." Joyce murmured and went inside. Max followed her and could see two men arguing. She recognized one of them. It was David Madsen, the chief of security at Blackwell Academy.

Joyce tried to calm Mr. Madsen down. "David, _it's enough_! We've talked about this, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. But I still have the right to speak my mind, don't I?" Mr. Madsen insisted and gave the other man an angry look.

"We agreed to leave it be and Mr. Prescott will pay all medical expenses. We have to _do this_. For _us_. For _my daughter_." Joyce pleaded with the security man and Max couldn't help but prick her ears the second she mentioned Mr. Prescott.

She eyed the older man warily and had to admit that he was quite intimidating wearing his expensive designer suit and having that strict expression on his face. Just behind Sean Prescott Max spotted someone she never thought to see here. It was that asshole Nathan who had been responsible for all her problems lately. But why was he here too? Did he have anything to do with Chloe's coma? Was he the one who drugged her?

' _That bastard already drugged me. So what now? Was Chloe his next victim?_ ' She wondered.

Max had more questions in her mind than answers and she would have loved nothing more than to confront the Prescott boy now. Her time with Mark had changed her. She wasn't this timid, frightened girl anymore. No, this time she was stronger, more confident and even a bully like Nathan Prescott would never scare her again.

Sean Prescott watched the couple and spoke in a deep and warning tone. "I'll ask you again to consider my offer, Mrs. Price. Leave my son out of this and I'll handle all your hospital expenses."

Joyce nodded and agreed. "Yes, and I thank you for this offer, Mr. Prescott. As I already told you we accept it." David Madsen snorted at that and crossed his arms. Yet, he chose to stay calm and agreed reluctantly, grumbling in response. "Yes, thank you _very much_."

The two men glared at each other for a few seconds. After Mr. Prescott seemed to have enough of this, he turned away and left the room, his son Nathan hurrying after him like a scared little boy.

Joyce took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She gestured at Max and introduced her. "David, I'd like you to meet Chloe's old friend, Max Caulfield. Max, this is my husband, David Madsen."

"Your _husband_?" Max repeated and was speechless for a while. Mr. Madsen was so different from William Price. While William had been nice and cheerful, she only knew Madsen as that impolite security freak who treated most of Blackwell's students like suspicious criminals.

"We already know each other. She's a student at Blackwell." David commented gruffly.

"Oh, I see." Joyce seemed amused and asked. "Max, why don't you stay here with Chloe and we get us something to drink, alright?"

"Hey, hold on! I should stay here too." David protested but Joyce grabbed his upper arm and dragged him with her.

"Let the girls have some time together, okay?" Max heard Joyce say as she closed the door behind them, leaving her alone with her unconscious friend.

It felt strange to see Chloe like this. Lying there in that bed with the bed's siderails up and tight around her. Several devices were placed beside her like a heart rate monitor and a drip monitor for her IV. Flowers decorated the sterile hospital room. They were the only colors in this mostly white, unpleasant atmosphere. It was so quiet and eerie here. The only sounds coming from the medical devices. A constant humming and beeping noise.

Max approached her bed and sat down in a nearby chair, seeing her friend for the first time. Chloe had changed so much after all these years. Blue hair and colorful tats on her arms. She looked like one of this cool punk girls, or like a typical skater chick. It seemed Chloe was still a pirate at heart.

She rested her hand on hers and sighed. "I'm sorry, Chloe. That this is how we meet again after five years. Guess we both have imagined to see each other under different circumstances. Right?"

Chloe didn't react. She was just lying there as if she was asleep, quiet and unresponsive. Tears ran down her cheeks. Feelings of regret and guilt were starting to overwhelm her and she whispered. "I'm the worst friend ever. I should have stayed in touch, called or texted you sooner, I know. But Chloe... I'm here for you now. I promise this time I'll do it right. I'll get to the bottom of this and I'll find out who did this to you, no matter what. I _swear_."

* * *

A few days had passed and Nathan had felt irritated and on edge. He couldn't get the Price girl out of his head. It somehow irked him that she had become his next Rachel Amber. A new girl to feel guilty about. Whenever he had some spare time left he went to the hospital to visit her.

But all these visits didn't make him feel any better. On the contrary, they only made it worse. Doubts crossed his mind. About Mark, about their partnership and about his job as his fucking protègè.

There were times where he just wanted to end this. It was as if the whole world began to haunt him. In his dreams he saw everyone of them. Sean's disappointment, Mark's disapproval, Rachel's hate, Chloe's unconscious face and Max's accusing look in her eyes. Sometimes he held a gun at his temple, considering to end this damn life. At other times he grabbed his cellphone and wanted to call the police, to spill out everything. And then there were also times when he sat alone in his car and just wanted to escape from here, to leave it all behind. Yet, whatever he attempted to do, he could never follow through with it. Instead he always returned to this fucking room. _To her_.

' _You're such a joke, man_.' Nathan thought as he sat in the chair next to her bed, staring at Price's unconscious body.

"Thank you, punk ass. My life has been shit already and you just had to come and make it worse, huh?" Nathan gave her an angry look but the punk didn't respond and lay there like a fucking porcelain doll.

His annoying headache was driving him crazy. For a second he felt dizzy there, like he could pass out or throw up at any moment.

The young Prescott looked back at her and became silent. There it was again. This sudden urge to call the police to spill the beans. His hand took out his cellphone and tapped the cold plastic against his forehead. ' _Think about it, bro. Don't do anything stupid now_.'

Then without thinking he selected _his_ number. He needed to hear his teacher's voice now, hoping that only he could fix this chaos inside his mind.

"Nathan." Mark spoke his name so softly, his calmness carrying over to him, soothing him like balm on his tortured soul.

"Mark, I don't know what to do anymore. I've never felt so lost in my life." Nathan whimpered and his hand holding the phone began to shake. It was difficult to pull himself together and not to burst into tears.

"Shh, take a deep breath and calm down, Nate. Trust me, it'll be okay." The calm voice assured him.

"Nothing is okay! That Price girl is in a coma because of me. I fucked everything up. It's over." He cried and his voice was starting to break.

While he was a fucking mess his teacher seemed to remain quiet, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he told him. "Nothing is over. Pull yourself together, okay? I need you, son."

Nathan wiped the tears from his eyes and shook his head. "You don't need me anymore. You have Caulfield now. Look, I don't think I can do this anymore. I'll call the fucking cops."

"Jesus, Nathan, don't be stupid. Do you think the police will care what you have to say? They'll just throw you in the loony bin and let you rot there. Is that what you want?" His mentor spoke louder now, trying to bring him to his senses.

"I-I don't know what to do anymore." He sobbed and gazed back at the punk girl now. Was he going crazy or did she just move? The young man swore that she had turned her head in his direction.

He became very quiet and muttered. "Wait-wait a sec. Something's happening here. I think she's regaining consciousness. But I'm not sure."

Mark's voice was tense now. "Be careful. Maybe you should leave her. Who knows how she'll react if you're the first one she sees..."

But his warning came too late. The Price girl slowly opened her eyes and gave him a puzzled look as if she had awakened from a strange dream. Her voice sounded strained and hoarse after spending all this time in a coma when she asked him. "What is this place? Where am I? And... who are you?"

Nathan looked at her in disbelief. "You don't know _who I am_? Do you know who _you_ are?"

She frowned and struggled to remember. Minutes went by where she just looked at him with a blank expression on her pale face and she finally shook her head. "No."

' _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ' He thought and stared at her.

"Fuck, you've been in a coma, you know. And I'm not really sure but I think you've lost your memory." Nathan mumbled and couldn't quite believe this. It was as if someone had pushed the fucking reset button to grant him another chance. Another chance to get his old life back.


	13. Chapter 12: Dark Room

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **A/N:** _First of all sorry to all my readers for the long delay. It took me a while to write this and it's also my longest chapter yet. Once again a huge thank you to my lovely reviewers lunamoon531, FlukeShot, tur1823, TheFoolishDreamer and Noie. Love you all for the kind words and your support. It makes me really happy to read all your reviews or see this getting favs and follows. :)_

 **Chapter 12: Dark Room**

The world had changed. From one moment to the other. From black to white. From impenetrable darkness to brilliant light. Everything that had once mattered to Nathan had become irrelevant to him. There was only one being who had been occupying his thoughts lately. And that particular person was none other than Chloe Price.

It was crazy how fast things could change, veering off in a completely different direction. Fear, anger, hopelessness. All these negative feelings had been replaced by optimism now. Yes, happiness even. A restart button had been pushed the second the punk girl had regained her consciousness. Her amnesia had opened new doors, new possibilities for him. This unexpected turn of events gave him an opportunity he never had before.

To his surprise Chloe became strangely attached to him, always trying to inquire about him, urging him to stay at her side. This new Chloe was completely different from the Chloe Price he knew before and at first he had been confused by her odd behavior.

Nathan had wanted nothing more than to leave the punk behind him, to forget she ever existed but she had upset his plans. Her doctors were worried he might abandon the poor girl during such a crucial, difficult time and they had chosen to state why their patient acted this way, why it was of utmost importance for her recovery not to leave her.

His mind had been a total mess that day. His mental condition had been in a poor state lately, his soul had been broken so many times and there was no healing in sight. He sometimes wondered what he lived for anymore or why he even bothered to retain some kind of sanity in his life.

Thoughts of escape, of suicide or surrender dragged him down to a point where he almost saw one of these options as his only means of salvation. He remembered listening to the physician's explanations, trying to understand what he told him. Something about him being the first one she saw after waking up from her coma. For someone suffering from memory loss she had unwittingly made him her connection point, identifying him as the most important person in her new life. At the beginning Nathan had thought this was all ridiculous, yes, a sick joke. That Chloe Price of all things clung to him like an annoying and foolish puppy.

Yet the more time the young Prescott spent with her the more he realized it wasn't a joke at all. This was serious. A side of him wanted to laugh at the whole fucking situation. On one hand he was aware to dance on a razor-sharp edge here. According to her doctor's predictions Chloe possessed a 80% chance to regain her memories. Though he also pointed out that there was only a 10% possibility to remember the events right before she went into her comatose state.

It thrilled him to know that there was a slight chance she could remember what he had done to her. A part of him, the cowardly part wanted to stay well clear of her while another part, the guilty part prevented him from keeping himself away from her.

His feet were moving on their own, always finding their way back to her hospital room. She was his new drug. Exciting, irresistible and always providing an adrenaline rush unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was something about her that he couldn't resist, no matter how hard he tried. This new Chloe wasn't like everyone else here in this shitty town. There was no judgment in her gorgeous blue eyes. No resentment, no fear or anger. She simply regarded him as Nathan, not as a Prescott. It was refreshing and even liberating to be appreciated for being the man he was, to be treated as a normal person with no ulterior motives.

It was only her and him having a good time, laughing together and chatting for hours and hours about everything that crossed their minds. In his eyes Chloe was like an empty bottle that could be filled with his thoughts and ideas. Finally there was somebody new in his life who actually listened to everything he had to say. Everything that mattered to him.

About his difficult relationship with his strict parents or the sad and terrible truth that his sister Kris was the only one who actually cared about her younger brother. About his struggle to find honest friends like Victoria Chase at his school or hating all those who just wanted to take advantage of him. His thoughts on his hobby, his black and white photography and why these surreal and abstract images fascinated him so much. Or why he often sought his photography teacher's advice instead of consulting his own psychiatrist.

For the first time Nathan had this feeling he could tell her anything, that he could open his heart to her. In return Chloe seemed to seek his help as well. This feeling to be needed, to be wanted by someone. It was incredible. As if this girl had given a new meaning to his worthless life. She relied on him and asked to learn more about her old self.

Many times they both looked into a mirror in silence and she would always hold his hand very tightly, like a scared kid grabbing the hand of an adult on a ghost train ride. Maybe it didn't feel so frightening anymore to confront herself when he was with her. For Chloe it was a huge shock to only see a stranger staring back at her in the mirror. As if she was trapped in another body and a foreign life that didn't belong to her.

At some point Nathan could relate and even sympathize. Countless times he had also wished to be someone else, to have a new name and to start from scratch again. No more people mocking him or yelling at him on the streets. No more jealous brats making fun of him at Blackwell Academy and no fucking Sean Prescott complaining about his only son being a huge disappointment.

Sometimes his various drugs were a helpful tool to escape from this bitter reality. Yet the effects were only temporary and the realization soon struck him that he would never get rid of this cursed family name. A name that caused him nothing but trouble and hardship.

The last thing he wanted was to think about the Prescott name now. Not here. Not in her room. After school had been finally over for today he had hurried back to the hospital. The moment he entered her world of sterile white, he immediately felt at peace. As if he could forget all his worries, leaving them all outside this building. This place had become his little bubble where he could let his guard down, where he could pretend for a while that his whole life wasn't so fucked up after all.

This girl reminded him so much of his old school friend Samantha Myers. Chloe and Sam had so much in common. Their kindness, helpfulness and frankness. Both of them exuded an air of calmness that made it so easy to relax in their presence. Yet there was also something else. Chloe Price was like an innocent child and he felt a strong urge to protect her from any harm. His mentor Mark Jefferson would never have her as his model. Chloe belonged _to him_ now. _Only him_.

What an irony this was. The one who caused her coma in the first place had become her protector.

"I'm back, Chloe. Have you _missed me_?" Nathan asked in a cheerful tone, showing her a bouquet of blue orchids and slowly clicking the wooden door shut behind him.

The girl's face lit up when she spotted him and she clapped her hands in an excited manner. The big smile appearing on her face greeted him like sunlight in the spring. "Of course I've missed you, Josh. Are these flowers _for me_?"

It usually angered him greatly when someone called him Josh. He hated his second name. But somehow he was okay with Chloe using that name. The mere sound of her pleasant voice was enough to melt all this anger bubbling inside of him. As if she was allowed to do anything she desired in his presence.

"Do you know anyone else who enjoys these blue orchids just as much as you do?" He teased her and approached her bed now, taking the nearest chair beside her bed and putting the orchids in a vase.

She only laughed at that and Nathan could feel the warmth spreading through his chest, her soft laughter was medicine for his tortured soul. To watch her being so happy and giddy like a carefree child was all he required in his life right now.

Chloe shifted on her bed to be in a more comfortable sitting position and beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're finally here. You can't imagine how boring it is in this damn room. It's like a prison. Can we play hide and seek again? Please say _yes! Please!_ "

Nathan chuckled and shook his head. "The last time we played this game your nurses were very annoyed. Remember?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "You know these people are no fun here."

He nodded at that and agreed, "I know." and his gaze moved to her little side table. There were several photo albums, cd covers and a portable cd player scattered on top of it.

"I see you've received some new stuff here." Nathan noted, pointing his index finger at the table.

"Yes, my mother brought all these things here. The doctor thinks photos and music can help me to refresh my memories." Chloe replied in a strange tone.

"And did it _work_?" Nathan wanted to know and leaned forward in his small plastic chair, shoving his trembling hands inside his jeans pockets to hide his sudden nervousness.

The girl let out a long sigh, frustration written all over her face as she answered. "No, it didn't. I really _hate_ doing this. Looking at these pictures and only seeing these faces of strangers. I don't have any recollection whatsoever and I can't recognize them. Or listening to this... ugh, this stupid punk music crap. I don't want _this_! I don't want them to remind me that my life is nothing but a huge black void. But believe me, that's not the _worst part_."

He swallowed hard and felt how her discomfort also affected him in a way. As if he could share this pain she felt. The sudden need to comfort her was strong so he placed his hand on her arm, asking her. "And what's the worst part?"

"The worst part of it all is watching all these people holding their breath in anticipation. Each morning I wake up and hope my memories would come back to me but they don't. It's frustrating. They keep asking me all these questions, over and over again... do you recall _this_ , do you recognize _that_?... No, _I don't_! Why don't you just leave me alone and bother someone else? That's my only thought during these stupid therapy hours." Chloe told him in a bitter tone and rubbed her forehead absentmindedly.

Nathan noticed she did that often when she felt annoyed and tired. It was always a clear sign to give her some space and to leave her alone for a while.

"Maybe I should go now so you can get some rest." He suggested and wanted to get up from his chair but she stopped him, grabbing his wrist and offering him a sad smile.

"Please _don't_ leave me now." She pleaded, her fingers circling his wrist and gently holding him in place. Her voice sounded thoughtful now as her blue eyes regarded him.

"I wonder why we haven't been friends sooner, Josh. _This_ , _us_. Spending time together like this, you know." The smile was still on her face, she was watching and waiting how he would react to that.

Both stared at each other for what felt like forever to him but in reality it wasn't even a few minutes. His earlobes started to feel hot and Nathan was the one to break their awkward silent stare off. He cleared his throat, took her hand in his and admitted. "Yeah, I wish we could have done this sooner too. I've already told you it's complicated. We both have completely different social backgrounds and also... well, _different parents_."

"I don't care about parents and backgrounds. Or who has lots of money and who doesn't. You know that." Chloe huffed and Nathan was unable to suppress a smirk. Heck, the old Chloe would have shown him her middle finger by now or would bark at him to fuck off if he would be so close to her like that.

Yet, this Chloe was another person with disparate thoughts and feelings. It was still a mystery to him what was going on between them. Was this affection they felt? Maybe even love? Or was this just the beginning of a new blossoming friendship? Nathan wasn't sure what it was but it also didn't matter all that much now. Perhaps it was best to just sit back and to let things run their course, to watch how everything would unfold before his eyes. Fate would either fuck him again or have something else in store for him.

"And that's what _I like_ about _you_." Nathan told her and tugged on her hand carefully to pull her close to him as his other hand reached up to cup her face. The blue-haired woman leaned into his touch and once again they stared at each other in silence, secretly admiring the other without needing to utter another word.

Nathan felt his mouth go dry and his whole body flushed immediately as his blood started flowing faster and faster in his veins. It didn't feel right to touch her. It felt like a violation, as if he wasn't allowed to touch her like this. That christian bitch Kate Marsh would most likely call this an unforgivable sin. Hell surely awaited him, ready to swallow him whole the moment he had almost killed her with an overdose. It was his doing that she had ended up here. It was his fault she possessed no memories anymore. Was he waiting for her forgiveness? A forgiveness that would never come? All Nathan knew was that he couldn't stay away from her. Chloe was his only source of light in this dreadful darkness. A light which could set him free. He needed her. Just as much as she needed him.

"Chloe, we're back." They suddenly heard a voice of an older woman coming from the door entrance and both jumped in surprise. Nathan found himself half out of his seat, clenching his fist and turning away from her. No one should find out about this so he made sure there was an appropriate distance between him and Chloe again.

' _Great timing! Her fucking parents just had to come now, of all time_.' He thought and his dark blue eyes even widened when they discovered the one who he wanted to meet the least here. Max fucking Caulfield entered the room right behind them and her facial expression immediately darkened when her eyes met his.

Nathan looked away quickly and let out a long sigh. ' _I better go now. This selfie bitch hates me and I'm sure she wants to drive a wedge between us. I can see it, hoe. I can see it in your fucking blue eyes_.'

* * *

It had become some sort of ritual to visit Chloe after school was over. Today was no exception. Max felt restless and very tense these past few days. Seeing her best friend like that, without any memories, it was a sight that hurt her deeply and broke her heart.

She felt especially bad for her mother Joyce who tried her best to be there for her daughter during these difficult times.

' _How would my mom feel if I couldn't remember who she was? She would be devastated_.' Max thought and had this uncomfortable feeling to be pulled down by an invisible weight the second she set foot inside the hospital building.

Her blue eyes immediately found Joyce and David Madsen. Both were on their way to Chloe's room and carried two big, blue bags from the Two Whales Diner.

A smile appeared on her face as she joined them. The delicious smell of belgium waffles, bigfoot bacon and cheeseburgers invaded her nostrils. "Wowsers, I've missed your homemade cooking so much, Joyce."

"I know you must have missed this, Max. Don't worry, there's enough for everyone." Joyce assured her and her expression became serious again when she added. "It's so good to meet you here. After all these years and everything that has happened it really warms my heart to see you together with Chloe again."

' _Does it also warm your heart to see her hanging out with Nathan Prescott?_ ' Max wondered but was too afraid to address that issue so openly here. Instead she decided to mention this without causing any further concern. Having to worry about Max's suspicions as well was the last thing Joyce needed right now.

"I've always wanted to ask you. Do you think it's safe that Chloe and Nathan are together _like this_ all this time?" Max asked out of the blue and watched Joyce frown in return.

Joyce Madsen stopped in her tracks and gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean by that? Do you think the boy isn't good enough for my Chloe?"

Max sighed and chose her next words very carefully. "It's just that he's known as a bully at Blackwell. And it's no secret that he has these mental health problems. I'm just worried he might not be a good company for Chloe right now. That's all."

Joyce had this look again in her eyes. This look that said everything will be alright and don't worry too much. Her voice sounded positive and full of hope as she made clear. "You haven't been here, darling. It's really been a damn long time since I've last seen Chloe's smile. After William's death she has never been truly happy anymore. The Prescott lad makes her happy and this alone means a lot to me. I can see that he cares about her and that's what's important here. We all want my girl to get better soon and we should all pull in the same direction. Don't you agree?"

"But..." Max wanted to say more but David Madsen held up a hand and interrupted her harshly. "Joyce, I agree with our missy here. I see everyone at Blackwell and I know everything that's going on there. I'm a veteran and it's vital knowing the psychology of your enemy. That's an important point of military strategy. I've watched the Prescott brat for a while now. He acts suspicious and he's not only a potential threat to Blackwell Academy but also to your, no, _our daughter_."

' _Gosh, what's up with him? Did he study the Art of War by Sun Tzu or is he even more paranoid than me?_ ' Max thought and uncomfortably shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Yet Joyce just shook her head at that. It looked as if she had to deal with Mr. Madsen's suspicions and assumptions very often so she tried her best to calm him down again. "David, enough with these pointless accusations! The boy has done nothing wrong so far and even the therapist thinks he can be an important key factor and a positive influence for Chloe's recovery process."

"Look, I know you don't want to hear this from me but my gut feeling tells me that this brat can't be trusted." David warned her in a gruff tone and they had already arrived in front of Chloe's hospital room now. The tension between Joyce and her husband was palpable in the air and Max thought it was best to take a step back, not daring to intrude their discussion.

Joyce's eyebrows drew together in irritation, making a splendid vertical crease in the midst of her forehead and her voice sounding slightly louder as she said. "What do you want me to do? Should I forbid the boy to see my Chloe again? That's ridiculous, David. And you know it."

"You don't believe me? Fine! But don't come running after me with tears in your eyes if something actually happens to her." He replied angrily, snorting air through his nose while Max could clearly see his disappointment all over his face that Joyce wouldn't listen to him.

After realizing that he maybe went too far the tall security guard paused for a moment to regain his composure and quickly apologized to her. "I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm just as worried about Chloe as you are and I want to be a good father for her. Do you know how it feels like that she doesn't call me Mustache Monster, Sergeant Shithead or Stepdouche anymore? That she doesn't treat me like a foreign object in our own home? This is _the chance_ for all of us to start all over again and I don't want to screw it up, believe me. But I also want to ensure her safety. That's why I gave her a gun so that she can defend herself."

Joyce covered her mouth in shock and whispered in disbelief. "You gave my sweetheart a _gun_? She's in a hospital! What kind of madness is this, David?"

"It's a security measure, nothing more. Look, I don't want to worry you but the Prescott kid is _dangerous_." He glanced sideways at Max for a second before his gaze returned back to her. "I'm sure her friend Caulfield can tell you more about it but you probably don't want to hear any more of this and that's fine. I won't say anything anymore, okay?"

The older woman dressed in her waitress uniform took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her eyes wandered from Max back to her husband. "You're right. I don't know which problems this young man might have caused at Blackwell and I don't know anything about his mental health condition either. Yet, what _I do know_ is that his father takes care of all our expenses here. Without Sean Prescott we could never afford this specialized rehabilitation program and let her be treated by this team of medical professionals who designed these individual therapy sessions for her. We should be grateful to him and his son for helping us out here. That's why I don't want Max or you to say anything bad about the boy. Not here and certainly not in my daughter's presence. This young man deserves a second chance and I want to _trust_ him. And I ask you two to do the same. _Promise_ me this."

 _'I wish I could tell Joyce what Nathan had done to me. But this isn't the right time and also not the right place. She already has enough on her plate with Chloe's amnesia._ ' Max thought and decided to wait for a better opportunity to tell her everything she knew.

She only nodded at that wordlessly while David reluctantly grumbled a yes in response. It was obvious that Mr. Madsen had a tough time to respect his wife's wishes.

' _That must be really hard for him. Madsen is like a bloodhound who is always close on the heels and I bet he'd love to investigate this matter further_.' A part of her hoped Madsen would remain skeptical around Prescott while the other part thought that Chloe had to be everyone's first priority now.

Joyce seemed somewhat relieved and turned towards the door, reminding them. "No more talk about guns and Nathan Prescott, okay? Let's visit my daughter and enjoy our meal."

After discussing the subject Nathan Prescott Max wasn't one bit surprised to encounter that asshole here together with Chloe.

' _Speak of the devil_.' She thought and felt an urge to scream at him, to ask him if he intended to drug her best friend too. But she managed to ignore him. She had to. For Joyce.

Nathan must have suddenly felt like an unwelcome guest here because he quickly excused himself and left them. For a tiny second they made eye contact when he walked past her. Dark blue eyes glared at her in annoyance yet she didn't feel intimidated by him. On the contrary, Max only felt irritation, nothing else. Since that one fateful photo session her fear had been replaced by confidence. Her teacher Mark Jefferson had inevitably changed her, he had turned her weakness into strength.

Her attention returned to Chloe now. Being here wasn't easy. Her friend had become a completely different person. One of her doctors had tried to explain why she was like that. According to him our past memories and experiences form our current personality. Without them we become someone else and are not who we used to be. The thought alone to be in Chloe's shoes right now sent shivers down her spine. Having no memory who we are was one of the worst things that could happen to someone.

An awkward silence permeated the room when they all ate the stuff Joyce brought from the Two Whales diner. It almost seemed as if Chloe knew something was amiss here. Her mother tried her best to begin a conversation, asking about trivial things like the current weather or her hospital meals but her daughter stayed unresponsive.

Joyce cleared her throat and struggled to hide her disappointment as she proposed. "We'll go and get us something to drink, okay? Max, would you be so kind and stay with Chloe?"

"Sure." Max replied with a smile and took the chair that Nathan had used before.

"So, how are you today?" Max began, unsure what to say now.

Her friend's face was expressionless and she just shrugged. "I don't feel any different today."

"It's a cool idea Joyce brought these photos and your cds." Max glanced at the covers and couldn't help but smile. This music was Chloe through and through. Instead of becoming a pirate she had become a punk fan now.

"We can listen to a song if you like. Hmm, how about _this one_?" She held up a cd and read. "Piano fire by Sparklehouse. Sounds like a good one. What do you think?"

"Sorry, I'm not really in the mood for music right now. Besides, I don't enjoy this punk rock stuff." Chloe made clear and looked away, her gaze shifting to the windows.

' _Damn, she's a hard nut to crack. What can I do to get through to her?_ ' Max asked herself in her thoughts and was unsure what to do now. Giving up wasn't an option so she chose to try another approach.

"Your blue hair... I think that's actually my fault." She admitted and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. That remark caught her interest.

Chloe gave her a quizzical look. "Your fault? I don't understand."

"Yeah, when we were kids we always wanted to be pirates and I once had this idea that it would have been cool if you, Captain Bluebeard had _blue_ hair." Max recalled, the memories of her childhood still vivid in her mind.

Chloe only frowned. "I don't like pirates. They're noisy, rude and always look filthy. I'd rather be a beautiful princess instead."

' _A princess? Gosh, Chloe blew up her Princess Barbie when she was ten. She hated being like all the other girls out there_.' Max thought and commented. "You, uh, destroyed all your princess toys when you were younger."

"Seems I've been a weirdo. I mean, look..." She pointed at her flower tats on her upper arm. "Just _look_ at these tattoos. I saw it on tv the other day. I look like one of these dreadful yakuza brides."

The sudden mental image of Chloe as a member of the japanese yakuza was too much. Feeling the start of a fit of laughter coming up, Max cleared her throat loudly to drive it from her body, assuring her. "Trust me, you're not a yakuza mistress. Those girls have tats that cover large parts of their body. And I really like your tats. You look like a cool skater girl to me."

"What's a skater girl?" Her friend raised her eyebrows and Max was kinda glad they finally had some sort of conversation going on here.

"It's, uh, a girl who skates on a skateboard. And I know you've skated a lot too. You're really good." Max told her and hoped this information would help her to jump-start her memories.

Chloe stared at her for a long moment, her face contorted in concentration as she tried to search her mind. And what happened next was something Max was used to witness every day. Chloe's shoulders slumped and she averted her eyes to hide her frustration, muttering with a weak voice. "I... don't remember. I'm sorry."

It pained Max to see Chloe defeated like that. Her once cheerful and funny pirate captain who never gave up had become a sailor on a sinking ship. Without hope and seeing no light at the end of her tunnel. This sight saddened her. Where was the Chloe Price who was this bold, fearless and stubborn rebel she used to know? What made things even worse was the thought that there was nothing she could do to help her.

' _I'm just a useless wannabe photographer who can't really do anything_.' Max thought and held back a sigh.

All she could do was to encourage her, to give her hope. "Don't worry about it. It's okay. I'm sure your memories will come back. It's only a matter of time."

"Yes, everyone here says _that_." Chloe commented dryly and looked up at her again. "You've told me we're best friends, right?"

Max felt a lump in her throat and somehow feared what she might say next. "Yes?"

"If you're my friend, shouldn't you be happy for me that I found a boyfriend?" Chloe questioned her and she detected a sudden chill in her voice now.

Max couldn't believe what she had just heard. Her jaw dropped and she just gaped at her. " _What_? Wait a minute, you say Nathan Prescott is _your boyfriend_?"

Chloe's face turned red and she became clearly flustered, quickly explaining. "No, not my boyfriend but I want us to be _more_ than just friends. Is that wrong? Don't you _like_ him?"

For a few seconds her gaze wandered to the side table and she spotted Nathan's blue orchids. Her breath caught in her throat and she clarified quickly. "No, it's just that I don't really know him or what kind of man he is. I'm just worried about you, that he might _hurt you_."

Max had experienced first-hand what Nathan Prescott is capable of and also doubted that a relationship between them would have a happy ending.

"Josh is a really nice and kind man. Yet even David thinks I need to protect myself. Protect myself from _what_? Josh isn't a criminal. He would _never hurt me_. I _know_ _that_." Chloe stated and shook her head. "Sometimes I have this impression that you all don't want me to find happiness."

"That's not true and you know it." That accusation hurt like an invisible stab through her heart and it weighed heavily on her like all that guilt on her shoulders, knowing that she had abandoned Chloe during all these years.

Anger seeped into her voice now as she went on. "Then why is everyone treating Josh like an outsider? I've seen the way you look at him, Max. You _hate_ my Josh. Why?"

"Okay, please listen to me. I've only known him as a bully at our school and I say this now as your friend. You're a wonderful person and I only want you to find the right partner. Trust me, you deserve _someone better_ than Nathan Prescott. Someone who can appreciate how incredible and awesome you really are." Max answered calmly and moved her chair towards her bed, attempting to close the distance between them.

But to her surprise Chloe just stared at her, her arms folded over her chest and her blue eyes glared daggers at her, warning her to come any closer. "How would _you_ know what kind of man _I need_? How presumptuous of you to even say something like that! Do you even have a boyfriend, Max? How would you feel if someone would tell you face to face that he's also not Mr. Right for you? Do you even have any idea how _much_ _that hurts_?"

Chloe was angry and Max couldn't blame her. It was none of her damn business to butt in their relationship. Especially someone like herself who fell in love with her art teacher Mark Jefferson.

' _Great, Max. You're an idiot and you're really the last one who should give Chloe any relationship advice_.' Max thought and affirmed. "I have a relationship and yes, you're right. I'd hate it if someone would badmouth my partner. I should have never said such a thing. That was wrong, I know. I'm _really_ sorry, Chloe."

There was bitterness in Chloe's voice now as she spat. "Now I understand why we're not best friends anymore. I've had enough time to read one of my old diaries. Although I can't remember any of this it still hurt me to see how my other self had to suffer because of you. Seems you're not such a _good_ friend after all." Her right hand opened the top drawer of her trolley and took out a familiar looking book, its cover full of different stickers and colorful scribbles.

Max instantly recognized Chloe's old diary and she fanned through its pages. What she saw there shook her to the core. The first image that caught her eye was a drawing of herself. Her lifeless body was hanging from the gallows of a giant tree.

' _Oh my god, Chloe must have really hated me_.' Max thought and felt her stomach tightening when her eyes quickly skimmed through all these letters addressed at her. All clearly written in anger, sadness and disappointment.

A deep, heavy sigh escaped her lips and she tried to apologize. "As your friend I've made many mistakes, yes. I won't deny that. But I really want to do it right this time, okay? You mean a lot to me and I ask you to give our friendship another chance."

In Chloe's sapphire eyes, a deeper blue than her own, there hovered a shadow. Her voice became low, infused with a sudden coldness that wasn't there before as she said. "I don't need a friend who leaves me for five years without a call, or even a text and who begrudges me my happiness. I think it's best if you leave me now. I'd like to be alone."

"I see. I'll go now. Goodbye, Chloe." Somehow, Max managed to utter goodbye although she was struggling to contain her emotions. Her worst fear had always been Chloe's rejection and now it had become reality. There was nothing that could compare to this pain she felt in her heart right now. Like a robot on autopilot she rose to her feet and walked out of the room without looking back. Her head felt like it was stuffed in cotton wool and she barely registered Chloe's parents staring after her as she left the floor. Her eyes went hot and stung with sudden tears, blurring her vision.

' _You've come and done it again, Max. Why do you do this? Why do you always have to hurt the ones you love?_ ' She asked in her thoughts and hated herself because she couldn't find an answer to that question.

* * *

Her morning didn't start any better. Max was unable to find any sleep last night. Her conversation with Chloe still gnawed at her mind. After forcing herself to drag her tired body out of her bed Max lightly slapped both cheeks with her hands. It felt like she was barely awake. Even after taking a cold shower she still looked like a zombie with those dark circles around her eyes when she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.

She also didn't eat right either. Her stomach wasn't feeling all that well that she only chose to drink some chamomile tea this morning. Her classes flew by quickly and Max didn't even bother to participate in any of her lessons. She was a complete wreck today, deliberately avoiding all her classmates and only scribbling nonsense in her diary.

Only when she realized that she now sat in Mark's photography class, she slowly awoke from her lethargy. His familiar, soft voice always had this soothing effect on her. The young student looked up from her polaroid camera doodle and in that one moment their eyes met. As if there was a magnetizing pull that instantly drew them to each other.

Her heart immediately began to beat faster in her chest. Those brown eyes held her whole and he seemed to admire her silently, a small smile playing on his lips as he explained. "Alfred Hitchcock famously called film _little pieces of time_ but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from _light to shadow_ , from _color to chiaroscuro_."

Then his line of sight wandered across the room and he walked back to Daniel's desk, casually sitting down on the edge of the table and his eyes were glued again to hers. "Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white? Anybody? Bueller?"

Victoria's hand immediately shot up but her teacher chose to ignore her and still focused on Max, his intent eyes pinned on her and blocking the rest of his class out.

"Max, can _you_ give me a name?" He asked her, giving her a challenging look and slightly leaning forward on the table.

After learning and reading so much about black and white photography lately, the answer was easy. "Diane Arbus." Max replied confidently.

His lips turned upward to a satisfied smile and he seemed proud when he praised her. "There you go, Max! Why Arbus?"

She frowned and needed a moment to think about her answer. It was especially difficult to concentrate knowing that snob Victoria Chase was sitting on the left side, glaring angrily at her.

Max tried her best to disregard the Queen Beeatch and stated. "Arbus became known for her harrowing black and white intimate portrait photography. Her images are austere and almost brutal and she altered our perception of what was permitted in photography."

Mark nodded in agreement, his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment before he continued. "She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, that's bullshit."

The whole class stirred. She could hear agitated whispers and murmurs all around her. It was rare that a teacher used a cuss word like that in the middle of his lecture.

Mark winked at his students and placed a finger on his lips, saying softly. "Shh, keep that to yourself."

Her teacher stood up again and sauntered closer to Max's desk, his gaze solely on her as he went on. "Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a _dark corner_ , and _capture you_ in a _moment of desperation_. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the _height of their beauty or innocence_? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach."

' _He's talking about himself, about his own photography, his own vision. To capture that moment innocence evolves into corruption_.' Max realized and was surprised that Mark decided to talk about it so openly here in his own class. Did something change his mind to be so frank about himself? Furthermore she also had the impression he was directly speaking to her alone. As if his words were only meant for her ears.

There was a strange gleam in Victoria's dark eyes. It seemed she was trying hard to suppress and conceal her disgust and obvious jealousy towards Max when she commented in a dismissive tone. "I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work. I prefer...Robert Frank."

Mark returned to Daniel's desk and sat down again, nodding at Victoria. "Me too, Victoria. He captured the essence of post-war, beat America. And there was honesty about the economic conditions of the era, but a beauty in the struggle. You don't have beauty without a beat."

Max couldn't help but sigh. It was so typical for Victoria to interrupt her teacher's musings to get his full attention back. Sometimes she wondered if these photography lessons served as Victoria's personal battleground. Her one and only chance to push through any competition here in class and to intimidate all the others with her affected behavior.

Her eyes found her polaroid camera on her desk and she tried to recall the last time she had actually used it. ' _I should take a picture now to prove to myself I'm still here. It's been an eternity since I've last taken one. I have to get back to my daily selfie quota_.'

Grabbing her camera in her hands, she lowered it to get another angle as usual. It was a general rule to hold the camera high for a selfie and that the bottom was level with your own eyes. But Max loved to experiment and trying another angle could maybe produce other interesting results.

Although warm, natural sunlight illuminated half of her face, she still activated her flash to avoid too much shadow. After the flash went off she blinked a few times, tiny white dots dancing in the field of her vision.

This little photo session was enough to turn Mark's attention towards her again. His face lit up and he held up a finger. "Shh, I believe Max has taken what you kids call a _selfie_... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max...has a _gift_. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"

Everyone in class was staring at her but Max didn't mind. Her confidence gave her the strength she needed to conquer her own anxiety. After a moment's hesitation she responded. "The Daguerreian Process. Invented by a French painter named...Louis Daguerre. Around 1830."

Mark gave her an appreciative smile, his eyes shining behind his glasses as he complimented her again. "Somebody has been reading, as well as posing. Nice work, Max."

Max felt an immediate blush rise to her cheeks. From the corner of her eye Victoria skewered her with a sharp glare, the thin flesh on her cheeks was twitching in irritation.

"The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear defined features. You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Max is so far, way ahead of everybody." His acclaim caused her to straighten up in her seat and she felt a sudden heat flow through her body. At least here, in her favorite class she could forget what had happened between Chloe and her. Photography could always give her comfort and heal some of her wounds.

The bell finally rang and all students were in a hurry to pack their stuff and to get out of the classroom. Mark went back to his desk and reminded everyone not to forget to submit their entry for the _Everyday Heroes_ contest.

Victoria strolled through the room and stopped at her desk, her dark eyes narrowed as she looked down at her, snarling. "Nathan knows you're talking shit about him. Do us a favor and crawl back to your tiny nerd hole. That's our _last warning_. Leave Nathan alone or you'll regret it, selfie waif!"

"Nathan should leave _me_ alone, Victoria. Tell him that!" Max shot back and saw the blond girl's left eye twitching. It was obvious that the great and rich Victoria Chase wasn't used to people talking back at her.

But she quickly recovered from that shock and wasted no time going after their photography teacher. Once again she addressed him in an exaggerated manner, asking him in her sweetest voice about her homework and standing very close to him, almost invading his personal space. It was definitely too close for Max's taste.

To her surprise Mark quickly excused himself and proposed to review her work at a later time. Victoria seemed offended that he didn't have time for her today and stomped out of the room without saying another word. Soon after, her classmate Kate approached the teacher's desk and she offered him a shy smile. "If it's okay I'd like to have time off from work today, Mr. Jefferson. I need to go to the library to research some books for my science essay."

He smiled in return and nodded. "Sure thing, Kate. I can take care of the rest myself, thank you."

After waiting till Kate was the last to leave the room, Mark closed the door behind her and ran a hand through his unruly hair, his eyes finding her own. "Now, Max. Don't even think about leaving until we talk about your entry."

Max felt her heart hammering against her ribcage. After everything that had happened to herself and her friend Chloe she had totally forgotten the stupid contest. She nervously shifted her weight in her seat and avoided eye contact, stammering. "I, uh, I haven't taken a picture yet."

Mark came closer, one hand resting on his hip and slightly tilting his head. "Why? Are you biding time, waiting for the elusive _right moment_?"

She rubbed the back of her neck absently and muttered. "No, it's just that there's so much going on in my life. I didn't have the time to focus on that assignment."

Mark's strict expression became softer and he tilted her chin up so that he could stare straight into her eyes. "Max, please don't wait too long. John Lennon once said that _Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans_."

"I know, I know." She sighed and nodded. "I'm aware that _Everyday Heroes_ is important for my future career and I swear I'll come up with something for the contest." She promised him and hoped he would leave it at that.

He gave her his hand and helped her to get up from her chair, wearing a worried look on his face now as he examined her. Her tired expression and the dark rings under her eyes were unmissable. "Max, what happened to you? You look..."

"Awful? Yeah, I know." She gave him a pained smile and didn't know what to do. One part of her wanted to tell him everything while the other part would do anything in her power to avoid that delicate topic.

His hands went up and cupped her cheeks as he reminded her in a very quiet tone of voice. "Please, Max. You're _not_ alone. Let _me_ help you."

"There's nothing you can do to help, Mark. I've visited Chloe yesterday and I've said some things that I regret now. Chloe hates me and I can totally understand that. I really have a talent to hurt the people I love the most." Max murmured and lowered her head in resignation.

"Shh, don't say that. You know it isn't true. Is there anything you can do for your friend? Something that might help her?" He proposed.

"Well, I can't help her with her amnesia. She already has Oregon's best doctors looking after her, thanks to Sean Prescott." Max replied and all of a sudden she became very silent as a new thought formed in her mind.

' _Prescott... That's it! I can try to prove to Chloe that Nathan isn't the kind of guy she thinks he is_.' The young woman thought and was surprised at herself that she even considered her new notion, noting with a confident voice. "I'm worried that Nathan might hurt Chloe. But the problem is that she won't believe me. I have to find evidence, to prove that Nathan is up to something."

His eyebrows drew up in doubt and he didn't seem convinced by her idea. "And how do you want to find _that evidence_ , Max?"

Max rubbed her chin deep in thought and then, after a few seconds of silence she glanced up at him, a new spark in her eyes. "I have to find his student file. I'm sure it's in the principal's office."

Mark smirked and shook his head. "Oh, so you want to break into Principal Wells' office now? You do realize you're talking to a member of the faculty here, do you?"

She winked at him and whispered suggestively. "It shouldn't be a problem if _this member_ of the faculty assists me in this matter."

He arched an eyebrow and a light chuckle escaped his lips, seemingly amused by her suggestion. "You're serious about that, right? What happened to my precious model student that she's willing to become a _criminal now_?"

"I'm doing this for my _friend_ , Mark. I know it's a lot I'm asking of you but I really need your help." Max pleaded, hoping he would accept to be her partner in crime.

Mark stared into the blue ocean of her eyes and saw her resolve there. His Max was willing to march through the deepest depths of hell to aid her friend. This new side of her, her courage and determination intrigued him. It was his doing. He had brought about her transformation and she was getting closer to _his darkness_. Closer than she would ever know. The question was did she even realize this herself?

Mark knew this was the exact moment he had been waiting for. It was the perfect opportunity to reveal himself to her. His partner Nathan was busy now after he had found a new toy to play with. This unexpected development worked in his favor and he could commit himself solely to immerse Max in his darkness. It was a huge gamble, yes. But he had to take that risk. In his eyes Max was ready for this. She would be able to _see_ him, to _understand_ him, to resonate with his dark soul.

He smiled down at her, pulled her to him and brought her lips to his. When Max felt his tongue slip between her lips, she couldn't help but gasp and surrender to his kiss. Heat surged through her and settled in her center when he put his hand on her back to press her body against his. Max could feel how her body thrilled at the contact, how she was slowly losing control. Just when her heart started to race dangerously in her chest and tingling shivers ran up and down her spine he suddenly withdrew, his brown eyes filled with longing as he whispered softly. "You got me again, Max. How can I say no to that beautiful face?"

* * *

They met at school late at night. It was 1 am when Max sneaked out of her dormitory very quietly, being super careful not to make any noises whatsoever. David Madsen's security guards patrolled the school grounds on a regular basis but no one noticed them as they entered the building through the large front doors.

Max was surprised that her art teacher possessed so many keys that granted him access to almost every room. Even opening the door to the office of Principal Wells posed no problem for him.

Mark turned on the light at the desk and whispered. "Here we are, Max. What are we looking for?"

Max looked around the office. The walls were covered with expensive wood and decorated with huge oil paintings. Close to the large window stood several bookcases and cabinets filled with books and folders. She shrugged and suggested. "Let's try to find anything that's related to Nathan Prescott. I'll search the student files. Can you check his computer, please?"

Mark sat down on the huge brown leather arm chair, switching on the screen and giving her an affirmative nod. "Okay, I'm on it."

She opened different folders and didn't find anything yet while Mark had been successful to crack Wells's password. She raised an eyebrow. "How did you do that?"

He chuckled and motioned to the head of a letter on the mahogany desk, reading it out loud. " _The future needs excellence_. I had a hunch he'd use Jeremiah Blackwell's words as his password. Ray is quite predictable."

Max rolled her eyes at that and grinned. "Really? I never imagined it would be that easy."

"A photographer can see people like no one else can and by capturing them... their essence, their soul, we know them better than they know themselves." Mark reminded her with a pensive expression.

She only nodded, knowing that he was able to perceive and read others like no other. Mark was right, as always. But there was no time now to marvel at the man she loved. ' _I have to nab Nathan's file. It has to be here somewhere, Sherlock_.' She thought and opened another drawer, her fingers hastily sifting through all these yellow portfolios.

Finally, a familiar name caught her eye. "Found it!" She exclaimed in a relieved tone and carefully read the pages. No tiny detail and no information should escape her attention.

"What does it say?" Mark asked and turned away from the screen, the light reflecting in his glasses as he glanced at her.

"Nothing, really. Nathan has a flawless record. It's full of praise and mentions nothing out of the ordinary here. Guess that's all thanks to his rich dad and his numerous money donations." Max couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice. This student file was utterly worthless and didn't help one bit to move their investigation forward.

She put the file back and approached Mark, wanting to know. "Did you have any luck?"

The older man selected three pdf files and opened them for her, motioning at them. "Yes, I think you should read this."

Max bent forward on the desk and skimmed over the texts. "Oh god, it's an incident report. Look at that... cursed at a teacher, threw a desk, stole school supplies and what? He attempted to steal the _tobanga statue_? How wacky is that?"

"That's not all. I also found a drawing." He added quickly and opened a corresponding image file.

Max felt a cold shiver run down her spine. This bizarre drawing was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It really scared the living shit out of her. "What's this? It's _disturbing_. Rachel in the dark room, Rachel in the dark room, over and over. What is this _dark room_? And isn't Rachel this student who disappeared?"

There was a cold gleam in his brown eyes as he turned towards her and confirmed. "Yes, that's correct. Rachel Amber is this missing student Principal Wells mentioned the other day. And this dark room..."

His voice trailed off and Max had this impression that he knew something. She dug deeper, an urgency in her voice now. "Mark, please. Nathan is your private student. If you know something about this dark room..."

"I know where this dark room is. We can go there _now_." Mark replied calmly, not batting an eye. He knew in this moment that he had her. His Max couldn't resist this irresistible bait.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Max urged him, she could barely hold back her excitement. This investigation was a complete success and she could feel they were on the right track here.

* * *

It was so dark outside that she couldn't make out anything. They had already left the city and drove through an abandoned area which belonged to the many farmers in Arcadia Bay, according to Mark's explanations.

The mood was strange this night. Silence engulfed the car. There wasn't even jazz music to lighten the mood. It felt like the calm before the storm.

"Is it far away?" Max asked, biting her bottom lip nervously and staring out of the side window. The longer they drove, the higher her anxiety level rose. She wasn't sure if she could withstand this kind of tension any longer.

"We're almost there." Mark assured her, his eyes still fixed on the bumpy road ahead. The impenetrable darkness and the lack of street lamps here required his full attention although he was familiar with this gravel road inside and out.

The seemingly endless minutes went by one by one and just when Max thought she couldn't keep calm any longer, they finally arrived at their destination. It was an old, shabby barn located on a deserted property. There was nothing here. They were in the middle of nowhere.

Max peered at the wooden barn and couldn't shake off this feeling of uneasiness which immediately overwhelmed her. This location reminded her of a horror movie and she whispered more to herself. "God, this is way too Blair Witch for me. I have goose bumps all over."

' _Alright, Nathan. What have you hidden here?_ ' Max asked in her thoughts, trying to get all deductive again and to ignore her spooky environment.

It didn't get any better when Mark opened the padlock of the front door with a small key. The smell of musty straw mixed with the sharp odor of the old, oily machinery of a tractor filled her nostrils. Loud creaking sounds of the unwieldy doors and the cold, howling wind outside made her flinch on the spot. Moonlight glimmered through the tiny cracks of the wooden walls but it didn't offer enough light to see where she was going. While Max was slowly groping her way forward Mark had no problems to orientate himself. He purposefully walked over to a specific spot and brushed some hay aside.

Max's eyes widened when she recognized a sealed trapdoor set into the ground. It seemed brand new and looked totally out of place inside a desolate barn such as this one. Her pulse was racing now and she wasn't so sure anymore if all this was a good idea at all. What did she hope to find here? Rachel Amber's dead body or other gruesome evidence?

She knelt down beside Mark who was busy opening another padlock. Noticing her nervousness he explained in a calm tone. "As you have probably already guessed, this barn belongs to the Prescotts. And underneath it is...", he then swung the metal door open in a theatrical manner and revealed a stairway which was illuminated by flickering, fluorescent lights. "a storm bunker."

"Wowsers." Max breathed and added "But to see something like this here... It's really weird, Mark."

Mark took her hand and squeezed it gently to calm her nerves. "Don't worry, Max. I'm with you. Come on, let's go."

They descended the gray stairs and walked through a hallway which led to a security door at the far end of the floor. ' _This bunker is so surreal. First a padlock, then a digicode... Someone really doesn't want visitors_.' She thought and watched how Mark entered the code on a numeric keypad. A green light appeared and after a short beep sound the door could be opened at last.

The next room seemed to be some kind of storage room. It was separated by a translucent curtain and Max was certain that she had spotted some photography equipment behind the drape.

' _What the hell is Nathan doing here? This is way too creepy_.' Max wondered as she looked around curiously, trying to find any clues what was going on here.

There were many shelves full of various nonperishable food such as cereals, water bottles or canned mushrooms. Yet it wasn't only food. Max could also recognize cleaning agents, towels and napkins. A strange feeling overcame her because this all possessed a strange familiarity. As if she had been here before. Even the strong smell of disinfectant hanging in the air wasn't foreign to her, it was very similar to the scents inside a hospital.

A ripple of tension ran through her body when Mark led her to the area which was hidden behind the plastic curtain.

Mark could feel the growing tension in her body and he couldn't help but be tense and excited as well. This was it. The moment that he had been waiting for, the moment that would decide her fate. Everything depended on it, on what would happen next.

Max's hands crawled up instinctively to cover her arms, like she was freezing or like she needed to shield herself. He on the other hand felt a fire burning in his chest and took off his black suit jacket, putting it on his desk. This room was special in his eyes and he felt a deep resonance with this place. A place that allowed him to realize his own vision, his dream.

His hands made an encompassing gesture and a smile flashed across his perfectly calm face as he presented his own paradise to his muse. "Welcome to the _Dark Room_."

Her gaze swept across the chamber, coming to rest on the black and white photographs which decorated the walls. "I _know_ this one shot there. It's _yours_. I've seen it at your place." Max murmured and held her breath without knowing it. Mark's picture of a man's face with his eyes wide open in fear had been so haunting that it had been etched into her memory.

This was a huge mystery. Did this room belong to Mark Jefferson? And if it was indeed his, what was he doing here? Was this his bunker? What was the meaning of all this? All these shreds of questions ran wild inside her head and nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

Mark came closer to stand right next to her and noted. "Ah, you've recognized my shot. I expect nothing less of my best student."

The other pictures made her feel uneasy too. There was a photo of a woman who was tied up and sitting on the ground. Her long hair flowed her back like black ink and her skin was very pale. The interplay of light and shadow gave this image an eerie look. It was dark, yet also strangely beautiful. All these photos reminded her of the ones she had seen in Mark's portfolio folder.

Her gaze wandered over the expensive photography equipment. There was a huge printer, a desk with a computer and screen, several tripods, softbox and umbrella lights and a big white screen which served as a backdrop.

Her stomach tied itself in knots because this room was almost the same as Mark's photography studio in his cellar. Even the white couch here was strangely familiar.

She faced him and wanted to know. "Are you working here in this dark room? Together with Nathan?"

An amused smile appeared around his mouth and he responded. "Of course, Max. I've already told you that Nathan is my other private student. He doesn't want anyone to know that photography is his passion, so he offered to conduct our photography lessons here in this bunker. You should know that Nathan is a gifted photographer who possesses so much raw talent though I'm afraid he lacks the ability to perfect it. He's trying so hard but his art doesn't possess a cohesive style or theme."

"I-I see." Max stammered and wanted to get a closer look at the studio area now. Just as she approached the backdrop she discovered a trolley with a tray on top of it which contained various needles and sedative drugs.

She unconsciously froze where she stood and muttered. "Needles... that's gross."

Mark leaned down to bring his face near her ear, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I learned that the slightly unconscious model is often the most open and honest. There's no posing and no vanity. And only through the use of these sedatives can I achieve the results I'm looking for. A _pure expression_."

The room seemed to darken around her and a bleak chill settled onto her chest as she could only force out a strangled whisper. "You _use sedatives_?"

He looked back at her guarded expression and placed his warm hand on her shoulder comfortingly, guiding her to the white couch. "It's okay. Don't be scared, Max. Come, let's sit down and I show you what I'm talking about."

Max was seized with a claustrophobic tightness of her breath. She could practically hear the crackling of electrified air in the room. All her senses were screaming to get away from here but her heart asked her to stay. This was still Mark Jefferson, the man she had grown to love. Surely, there had to be an explanation for all of this. All works of art had a deeper meaning, they conveyed a message and she was curious to find out what Mark wanted to achieve with his photography. Furthermore he had never hurt her and Max was fairly certain he would also do her no harm now.

She watched as Mark fetched something from his desk, holding a red binder in his right hand and an expensive looking portfolio folder in the other.

The older man sat down next to her and opened the red binder first. Inside were black pages filled with his photographs and also little notes about his thoughts on his different models written in his beautiful, elegant handwriting.

Some of these pictures were quite similar to the ones he had already shown her at his home. Photos of unconscious models purposefully posed by him in accordance to his vision. Especially their hopelessness was emphasized here, some were even tied up by their hands and feet with duct tape. An odd choice as prop but it further accentuated their state of weakness in these dark and powerful shots.

"Don't let your eyes be distracted by _these aesthetics_." He pointed at the duct tape and went on. "Focus on the pictures instead, on the message I try to convey here. These shots capture my models in a state of complete vulnerability, yes. They're not aware what's happening to them. But this is also what makes them so unique and fascinating. If you take a moment and look at it, you'll realize that these shots come from a place of calm and serenity. If you look closely, you can even discover _tranquility_ here, Max." The intensity with which he spoke those words surprised her and her gaze followed his to look at these images through the eyes of a photographer.

' _I can't deny that these shots possess its own beauty but at the same time they also give off a sinister and haunting aura. I wonder, did he take these shots with the consent of his models? The usage of drugs suggests this isn't the case_.' Max thought and sank deeper into the couch while she let everything sink deeper into her brain. She couldn't blink, she couldn't breathe, she just sat there frozen like a statue.

In a cautious voice she murmured. "You've never told me you've drugged your models." and stared into his brown eyes that seemed almost black in this dim studio light. " _Why_? Why did you lie to me? I thought you _love me_."

There was hurt audible in her voice now, as if he had betrayed her trust. Mark shook his head and couldn't believe his Maxine would ever think that his love for her wasn't honest and true. He gently took her hand in his and knelt down in front of her, the mere gesture showing her how he saw her in his eyes. Like a beautiful goddess on a throne, like someone truly special who deserved all his attention, someone who needed to be worshipped by him.

For a short moment he closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet strawberry scent and as he opened them again he observed her. His eyes drank her sight in and he appreciated every single detail. Her soft, pale skin, the tiny freckles which adorned her face or those ocean blue eyes of hers in which he could lose himself forever.

There was a glimmer in his brown eyes as he replied in calm, soft voice. "Oh, Max. Love is such a small word. It's too constricted and it can never encompass the full spectrum of everything I feel for you."

He carefully took her hand in his and kissed her palm, his next words poured smoothly from his lips while his eyes never left hers. "I am enraptured, enamored, mesmerized, engulfed, fascinated, inspired, charmed, enthralled, intrigued, inflamed, excited, exhilarated and captivated by you. I've never felt anything like this before and you changed me in ways you can't even begin to imagine. You _complete me_ , Max."

Max was at a loss for words after hearing his confession and she didn't know how to respond to this.

Mark moved closer to her and both could feel the super-charged air hovering between them. He gazed upon her loving and gentle as he had always been and opened his leather portfolio folder now. It contained photos of their last intimate session. Black and white images of them standing so close, kissing each other and being mesmerized by the other. Moreover Mark's low key photography emphasized the strong contrast between light and shadow. Their bodies were only partly visible while their faces were accentuated by low key light. Max couldn't help but stare at these beautiful, sensual shots which oozed passion and yet retained all sense of authenticy and purity. He had managed to immortalize every second of their love and every moment of their strong bond.

His scrutinizing eyes roamed over their pictures and tried to catch and cherish every single detail. He looked intently at her face now and whispered. "These intimate shots were only possible because you've _entrusted yourself_ , your _body and soul_ to me. I've told you before that you're able to spark my inspiration like a muse and thanks to you I could capture us both in moments filled with so much emotion, with so much power. You've inspired me to paint you differently than all my other models before you, to show you in a _different light_."

He took out a picture which clearly wasn't a part of this portfolio and held it up so that Max now stared at the photo she had taken of an unconscious Nathan. His voice was lower now which was effective to draw all her attention back to her teacher. "And now _look at this picture_ , Max. _Remember_ how you felt that day. Powerful, fearless, strong, confident and _in control_. It was _intoxicating_ , wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." Max admitted and knew she couldn't argue against that.

His gaze seemed to penetrate her, to stare straight into her soul. "I've told you many times before that we share a bond, that we have a special connection. I also believe we're soulmates who are cut from the same cloth. And you've been able to immerse yourself in the same darkness as me, Max. You can't deny that we're both parts of the same puzzle."

"I don't _drug_ my models." Max objected dryly.

He gently brushed his fingertips across her cheekbone and spoke very mildly, letting each and every word slowly sink in. "No, but you took pictures of our drugged Nathan. I want you to realize that we both share the same darkness. It's a darkness that permeates our art and makes our photography truly exceptional. The only difference is you only had a glimpse, a little taste while I've chosen this kind of photography a long time ago. It's my outlet to visualize my thoughts and feelings, to _calm the chaos_ inside my soul."

Max felt her mouth go dry and a pearl of sweat trickled down her back beneath her t-shirt. There was a long pause and then she finally asked him. "Mark, please, I have to know. What happened to you? What made darkness so important in your life that it intrigues you so much? Please, I need, no, I _want_ to _understand you_."

This was what he had been hoping for. That his Max would want to understand him and his photography. To learn why he had decided to tread this dark path and why he was willing to go to such lengths, to cross all these boundaries to create his art. To see the one he loved completely and to be seen by her in return. A rush of excitement overcame him yet he also felt very vulnerable in this very moment. To expose himself and to bare his soul like that wasn't easy. He had never done it before. Only his therapist had seen _this side_ of him and that was a long, long time ago. It was a past that had scarred him forever, a past that he had hoped he could suppress and forget.

Mark sat down on the couch again and pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to find the right words to express what he had experienced. He inclined his head in contemplation and his face became an expressionless mask as he spoke. "I have to say I rarely talk about this, Max. I want you to understand that it's difficult for me, recalling a time which gave me nothing but pain. The reason why I'm so fascinated by innocence is..." He paused a moment and averted his eyes, his voice sounding lower and colder, almost mechanical now. "I was only 9 years old when my own uncle stole my innocence." He couldn't say no more and suddenly felt exposed. It was too much. All these images came back to him and were flooding his mind.

Max could sense the conflict inside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She knew how difficult it had to be to open himself up to her, to reveal himself like this. Especially a man like him who was used to keep everything to himself, who always seemed so confident and sure of himself.

His facial features hardened and his jaw clenched visibly as he went on. "This had been the darkest time of my life. I couldn't trust anyone anymore and my only companion was my camera and a pencil. I've been visualizing all these images that kept haunting me. Over and over again. One day my therapist suggested that I should pursue my passion for photography, that this would aid me to recover from my nightmares. You could say that this was the starting point of my whole career. My whole focus shifted to photography and nothing else mattered anymore. I became an acclaimed and successful fashion photographer who is known for his elegant black and white style. A style infused with a darkness that both fascinates and surprises people."

His eyes found hers again and he concluded. "Now you _know_ who I am. I've shed _this mask_ for you to let you see my _true self_ , the _true Mark Jefferson_."

After hearing all this Max felt a huge lump in her throat. Now it all made much more sense. The picture became much clearer why he was so obsessed with the theme of innocence, or the loss of innocence in the first place. His photography served as his output to cope with his own past. What he sought were stolen moments and to find that one particular expression in his unconscious models. She only slowly registered the gift that he had laid in front of her feet. It was a kind of honesty that was painful to share and to give. Mark gave her all of himself, he let her get a glimpse through the window of his soul. He wanted to do what was right to him, telling her all this and knowing that this could cost him everything. Her mind was struggling to process all this while Mark only seemed to await her reaction with an eerie stillness. It pained Max to learn about Mark's past, that he had to suffer like that in his childhood and that he could only seek tranquility and peace through the lens of his own camera.

Their eyes met once more and she whispered. "It was wrong to doubt you. I hope you can still forgive me."

After a few seconds Mark only watched her in return, then he lowered his head to her neck. With a maddening tenderness his lips brushed over her skin, leaving a trail of soft kisses up her neck, from her collar bone up to her warm cheeks. He stopped at her earlobe and whispered gentle kisses around it, and then she could hear his smooth, calm voice in her ear. "Shh, quiet, Max. I feel you're the only one who can truly _understand me_ , who can _see me_ and who can _accept_ this darkness inside of me. You're the one I've been searching for all my life."

He withdrew from her slightly and the young woman sighed as she felt his warmth leaving her. His dark eyes found hers again and his fingertips traveled down the length of her hair strands, his voice vibrating with emotion when he finally asked. "Will you stay with me, now that you know who I truly am?"

Silence. In the dim light of the dark room Max faced a man who loved her like no one else, who could drown her in his passion, who turned her world upside down with a single kiss and who was still an intriguing enigma to her. An eternity passed between them in the span of a heartbeat and Max knew in this very moment that she wanted this, that she wanted him.

Her eyes stared up to his and she whispered. "Yes."


	14. Chapter 13: Painful truths

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **A/N:** _First of all happy new year to all my readers. I'm sorry for the long stretch between updates. We're slowly approaching the end of this story and it's becoming quite a challenge to tie everything together. I hope you enjoy the ride as things finally become more and more intense here. ;) Once again I want to send a big thank you to my lovely reviewers FlukeShot, lunamoon531, tur1823, Debra Smith, Noie, ambernass25 and the guest reviewer. I love you all for your fantastic feedback and look forward to read each and every one. Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

 **Chapter 13: Painful truths**

"Yes." Her voice was only a whisper yet Mark Jefferson could detect no trace of reluctance nor hesitation there, only determination. Max truly meant it. She was willing to stay at his side, to accept the man he was.

All this time he had believed that he could never reveal his true self to anyone else, thinking it was impossible. So it had become a role to play. An easy performance to hide behind the facade, to build up defensive walls to protect himself from harm. At the beginning of his career he had deemed it best to shy away from any relationships, to become this unreachable and untouchable man, to avoid exposing the face beneath the mask.

It all changed when his student Max entered his life. She became an integral part of it. An important part he didn't want to miss anymore. This young woman fascinated him like no one else before her. The more he knew about her, the more he craved to spend time with her. Seduction was the most effective method in his eyes so that she would yearn for his company. He had wanted her to starve of his presence, so that she would ache for him just as much as he did when she wasn't near him. Their meetings had felt like a slow dance where one had been seeking the other while his counterpart had tried her best to evade his subtle advances. First she had only regarded him as Mr. Jefferson, an authority figure and she had been mindful to keep an acceptable distance between them. So it had become his goal to further muddle the bounds of their teacher-student relationship.

This dance required patience and most of all time to break down these invisible walls which separated teacher and student. The gap between them was slowly closing in, their connection becoming stronger and stronger. And the deeper both progressed into the dance, the more he understood just how close Max had been to breach his mask. How she could stir something deep within him. How her passion, optimism and enthusiasm for photography reminded him so much of his younger self. A time where he had enjoyed the visual impact of his black and white images, giving them a sophisticated, high-fashion look yet also elevating his shots in terms of elegance and richness. The years passed by and he soon grew tired of his arrogant and cynical models after working for such a long time in the fashion business. His frustration had led him to question his own art, it caused him to overthink what he truly wanted to capture with his camera eye.

What he sought had been a true expression. A portrait that delved into new, unexplored depths. An image that was raw, gritty, stripped back and honest. A picture which allowed him to show the true essence of a person, their inner soul. Especially the eyes told him so much about his models. There was an intimacy between the photographer and his subject which helped him to establish a connection between them. The strong emphasis on the one he wanted to capture gave him this feeling to be somehow able to relate to his subjects. This intense emotion displayed in his new photography resonated strongly with him on a personal level.

His new and unconventional art would never be compatible with what was accepted in the mainstream. Mark was well aware that this was regarded as controversial, as niche photography and as much as he would have loved to publish his new work, it also filled him with delight, knowing these pictures were special, that they were meant for his eyes only. To revel in the fact that only he could truly appreciate them and understand the message behind them.

Unfortunately this obsession also had its downside because there was no one in his life who could share his dream, this vision and endeavor with him. And Maxine was everything he had hoped for. She represented the light in his darkness, the other side of him. Soon he came to the conclusion that they had formed a rare and unique bond.

At the same time Mark had also witnessed her metamorphosis. He had observed her gradual transformation with his own eyes and had discovered a depth there she had kept well hidden. A shadow was lurking underneath all that light. It lay deep within the folds of her heart, something she still had to realize, to acknowledge to herself. Innocence on the surface and a growing darkness on the inside. It was such an intoxicating blend. There was a readiness to follow in his footsteps, a will and boldness to push the boundaries like he did.

The more he learned about her, the deeper the cracks in his mask became. Max was a beacon of light. Pure, innocent and utterly captivating. Once he'd seen that spark in her eyes when she had captured an unconscious Nathan, the admiration he had felt for her only grew. He was certain she would be the one. The one to step closer to him in their slow dance, moving one step closer to tear off his mask and to fill that void within him. Someone who would end this ache of agonizing loneliness. There was always a stab of pain in his heart whenever he watched those other ordinary people who reminded him time and time again that there was no one else like him. That he was alone in this world, alone with his obsession.

Vivid images of their first night together came to his mind. The night he had made love to her under the light of the moon. He remembered the look on her face, so open, trusting and ready to receive him. He remembered the feeling of her smooth skin, the comfortable warmth of her embrace, her delightful shivers in every touch. Her soft and eager lips sliding against his own, their lips joining and melting into a deep, passionate kiss. He remembered the sound of her voice. The sweet moans and gasps of pleasure escaping her lips as the tip of his tongue had danced across her naked skin and had savored every inch of her body. He remembered how it felt like to be inside of her, how they had shared one last lingering kiss. He recalled this one moment he saw Max reach her climax, observing that wonderful explosion in her eyes. Those final moments of bliss were special in his eyes. Moments where he finally laid claim on her. He would never forget how it felt like to love her and not needing to hold anything back.

It seemed their dance had come to a sudden and swift end. Every glance, every single touch, every gesture, every time he heard her utter his name... it had been enough to cave in to his emotions, to know that he could never resist this urge to have her. Mark had finally decided that the time had come to shatter his mask completely and to reveal the truth about himself. This had been the first time he had ever felt this nervous in his life. To see his walls crumble like that, to show vulnerability in this manner, it had made him feel almost powerless yet at the same time it had thrilled him, it had been exhilarating. Like a hidden door that had been locked and closed for a long time had finally been opened by her. Their lives had become so intertwined that he knew there was no turning back now. It had been the perfect moment to bring her to his world, to show her every aspect of himself and to let her penetrate his mask.

Of course he had carefully planned all this beforehand, how he would introduce her to his dark room, choosing and calculating each and every single word and move, trying to avoid any possible missteps. But he was also aware of the risks he had taken here, that the possibility still existed to face rejection and to lose his precious muse forever. So her firm answer to his question left him staring at her in wonder and adoration but there were also remaining doubts still nagging at his mind.

 _'Does Max even know what I want from her? Does she realize what it means to work together in this dark room?'_ He wondered in his thoughts, asking himself if she would be willing to plunge into even greater depths to be with him.

Mark gave her a scrutinizing look, his intense eyes studying her expression and body language. Even the slightest of her movements were beautiful to him. Sitting here together with her on the white plastic-covered sofa gave him the perfect angle to look at his student. The light highlighted her best features, her blue eyes, her cheekbones, her tiny freckles and her lips. Truly, an art of its own, incomparable to anything else. His Max seemed to remain calm under his thorough gaze. There was no sign of fear or tension.

"Max, you do realize what I'm asking of you. _Do you_?" He inquired, his brown eyes searching her blue ones in the faint, cold light of the room.

The young woman nodded slowly in return, a look of understanding and sympathy passing through her eyes as she replied. "I know that _this_...", she gestured at the studio area now and went on, "that _this_ isn't right, that we both partake in something we shouldn't. But it is as you said. Sometimes we need to cross certain boundaries to achieve our vision. And now that I know the reasons behind all this, I can't, no, I _don't_ want to leave you."

Her beautiful cheeks darkened in color even further as her words rolled off of her tongue without the slightest hesitation. "I _love you_ , Mark. And I want to be with you. Even if it means that I have to wander this dark path together with you. I want _this_."

Mark could see the emotion conveyed in her honest eyes, looking up to him and feeling so strongly. This was almost too much. The thrill of her confession and seeing her loyalty and commitment to him almost made his body tremble in excitement. He could feel his own heart rate quickening, every beat echoing in his ears. This was everything he had always wished for. To have someone he could confide in, to be with a soul who was as deeply affected by the strong imagery of photography as he was, to have a companion in his life who shared his thoughts and experiences. In time he would show his muse who she could become through his guidance. He would make her what he needed, what he _wanted_ her to be. A gifted photographer like himself, a talented artist he could shape and mold like clay in his hands.

His eyes glazed over as he once again admired the sight of her beauty, natural and raw without any noticeable makeup. He brought his hands up on either side of her face and stared into her eyes, speaking in a low tone of voice. "I can see a deep curiosity that lingers deep inside of you. This is the closest kinship I have ever felt towards someone else. You and I are very much alike and as I've told you before. Mere words can't express what you mean to me or how I truly _feel_ for you."

He leaned forward, his right hand slowly sliding downwards to hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his lips parting into warm a smile. "I _love you_ too, Max."

And with that he captured her lips with his own, hearing her moan with pleasure as he pulled her tight against him. He could feel how her delicate hands traveled down his chest, slowly and almost shyly. Both closed their eyes and allowed themselves to relish in these sensations of their lips coming together in perfect unison. Each press of his lips against hers left her shivering underneath his touch. Their kiss was a flame, blazing across his consciousness like fire. He was unaware of anything and everything, save for his lips on hers and more importantly, her responsiveness. It was intoxicating, knowing that she was offering her body and soul to him, that she was truly _his_ and he couldn't help but devour her like a starving lover, stroking her lips in a timed rhythm. The longer their kiss lasted, the more he felt his own burning heat, his desire for his muse thrumming in his veins.

His arms had slowly wrapped around her petite frame and his hands now settled on the small of her back. His touch was unhurried and tender as his fingertips glided over the thin fabric of her t-shirt, exploring and memorizing her. As much as he enjoyed this intimacy, he knew that this wasn't the right time for these activities. There was still a lot they needed to discuss tonight.

He slowly pulled away from their breathless kiss, his face just an inch away from hers as he stared down at her with a fervent look on his face. With eyes that burned with lust not only for her but which also saw the possibilities of what else they could do and achieve together. "I am tempted beyond words to teach you what true longing is, Max."

Then the back of his hand brushed against the gentle slope of her face and he saw her lower lip quiver in response. The movement alone made it even harder to resist this want he felt right now, this want to satiate his stirrings of desire. It was so intriguing. Another sigh left his lips. "Yet I'm afraid we don't have the time right now."

Max was trying to catch her breath and her blue eyes were lingering on the outline of his lips as she whispered with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I-I understand."

"We both came here for a reason and I'm sure you still have many questions on your mind. Don't you?" He asked, his lips pulling into a gentle smile, the pads of his fingers grazing along her cheek.

The young woman tried to steady her breathing and her gaze moved towards the white floor and backdrop for a moment. When her eyes found his again, she seemed to poise her question very carefully. "I wonder... have you ever wanted to capture me here like one of your models?"

He moistened his lips and saw the questions and emotion that lingered in her eyes. After a span of a breath he responded calmly. "I would be lying to you if I told you that I've never considered this option. The possibility has crossed my mind several times, yes. Yet, I also had this feeling that a session in this room would never do you justice, Max. There is so much emotion lingering in your eyes. The azure color in your eyes is positively shining... radiating. I've wanted to _see more_ of you, so I've envisioned another scenario for you. Another way to regard you through my lens."

Max pondered his answer and only nodded silently in return.

There was a pause then. Only the quiet humming noise of the ventilation system inside the dark room was audible now.

Flashes of inspiration were filling his mind with new ideas. Different postures, how he would frame her, which angles would serve best to highlight her innocence. Playing with his background or how the interplay of light and shadow could make Max really stand out in his shots. He could even see himself experimenting with colors. A deep shade of crimson perhaps? Or even a dark blue? His imagination knew no limits. What intrigued him the most though were close-up shots of her beautiful face, especially her eyes. It would pose no problem to let her pupils swim in the white of her eyes. This approach might surely produce some interesting results there.

Mark regarded her thoughtfully, his fingers scratched his bearded chin as he asked her. "Would you allow me to capture you here, though? In a semi-conscious state?"

This situation created an opportunity he would have loved to seize. Just the mere thought to photograph her here, in his dark room, it was enough to feel himself tingling with emotion, like being burned alive, a tremble shaking him to the core of his body. Yet he also knew that it was too early to indulge in these cravings. Max wasn't ready for this. The frown appearing on her face, her tense posture or her eyes avoiding his. Her entire body language spoke volumes, reminding him that this young woman was still at the beginning of her long journey.

She sank back into thought again and his soft voice interrupted her reverie. "You know you can _trust_ me, Max. I would never hurt you or do anything you're not okay with."

"I know." Max said and her eyes found the tray again in which he kept his selection of syringes and different vials of drugs.

"How would you do it?" She wanted to know now and he was surprised that she showed an interest, that she wasn't afraid to ask him how he conducted his sessions.

Mark pursed his lips and began to explain. "Well, I always make sure that my models never remember our session. So it's essential to administer the correct dose to keep them in this unconscious state. I prefer to aim the needle at their neck. You see, this way the sedative works much faster but of course it's also possible to inject the substance into the upper arm instead. Although it may take a while longer for the drugs to take effect then."

She frowned. "I don't understand. Why do you have to apply _this method_? Wouldn't it be easier to ask your models if they would agree to participate in such a session? I mean, look at you, _you're Mark Jefferson_. You're a popular and world-renowned photographer. I'm sure there are many out there who would love to be captured by you no matter _how_ you would do it."

He shook his head and let out a long and heavy sigh. "I don't doubt that many wouldn't be against the notion to be photographed like this. All the Victorias, Danas and Taylors of this world would surely stand in line to grasp an opportunity such as this one. But _they_ aren't the ones I want to see through my camera eye. What I need to capture is tainted innocence, the beauty in suffering. The french painter Georges Braque once said that _art is meant to disturb_. _It's not art if you don't feel anything_. There must be a vulnerability, a fear in my model's eyes, yes. It's a feeling of losing hope, flickering like a dying candle. There's nothing that makes you feel so alive when you witness that stolen moment, that realization clouding your model's eyes. I must confess that this vision has somehow developed into an obsession of mine. An obsession which will last until that one moment where I can finally find an image which encompasses everything I seek. A perfect shot which will finally give me peace of mind."

Max appeared tense yet also attentive as everything was unfolded before her. She brought her eyes up onto his and furrowed her brows. "This obsession of yours... Will it never end? I mean, you would never _stop_ _doing_ _this_ , would you? You would always need new models for your dark room sessions, am I right?"

Her concern was audible in her quiet voice and Mark carefully took her hand in his, trying to ease her worries and fears, assuring her in a gentle tone. "I won't need other models anymore. I have _you_ now, Max. You're _my muse._ You inspire me so much and I wish to capture you over and over again. You're the first one who saw the _real me_. You're all that I _want,_ all that I _need_. The question is, do you want _this_ too? I know I'm asking a lot of you here but I also want you to realize what I'm offering you in return. I would quit my job at Blackwell for you and I'd assist you as your agent. I know this business inside out and I want to support your career in any way I can. You have a good eye and you possess that fire to capture life in a single moment. Although sometimes you are too modest and I fear you have a tendency to sell yourself short. All you need is that will to put yourself out there. To leave your mark for the whole world to see. Trust me, you possess all the qualities you need to become a great photographer."

She was clearly flattered and speechless by his words, blinking a few times and apparently not knowing how to react and respond to his incredible offer.

There was a moment of silence now and he could see something stirring in her eyes. "Honestly, I-I don't know what to say. You would give up your job... _for me_? I can't..." The words slipped out of her mouth and he knew she needed more time to process all this.

The older man hushed her, trying to relieve the tension. "Shh, it's okay, Max. There's no need to rush this and I don't expect you to answer right away. It's a lot to take in, I know."

His hand moved up and cupped her cheek as he gazed down into her eyes, telling her. "I want you to know that _this_ , _us_ , is _important_ to me. _You_ are _important_ to me. You've become a crucial part of my life now and I can't imagine being without you again."

His confession left her smiling and both shared a familiar sense of warmth in that instant, a sense of belonging. After a moment's pause she admitted almost shyly. "I can't imagine a life without you too, Mark. I would feel privileged and honored to serve as your inspiration... as your muse. And if _this_ can help you dealing with what you've been through in your past, I'd gladly do it."

He took off his glasses so that he could adore her truly, pressing his forehead against hers, his usual calm voice thick with emotion now. "Thank you, Max. I know all this must be overwhelming to you and your trust means a lot to me. As we both know, _trust_ is the _foundation_ of any relationship."

Moments passed between them in silence. There were no further words needed. Only reluctantly he pulled away and a quick glance at his wrist watch reminded him that it was about time to leave now. It was already too late and both would have to attend classes at Blackwell the next morning. They would once again resume their roles as photography teacher and student. Mark couldn't wait to watch her graduate so that they could finally be together in public. No more hiding, no more secrecy and no more lies. Their obvious age difference certainly made things more complicated but it shouldn't be a reason to disguise their love.

He gave her a small peck on her temple, leaned in closer and murmured into her ear. "I fear it's already late and we have to leave now. But I hope Blackwell's most promising student will finally hand over her entry for the Everyday Heroes Contest after classes are over. I'm still expecting your photograph although I'm aware you're better at taking photos than actually submitting them."

Max couldn't help but smile at this. "You won't stop bringing up that damn contest, right?"

Mark winked at her. "Well, I have to ensure you don't neglect your future career. As your mentor I can only say _this_ , don't let this opportunity pass you by. You can't wait for second chances in life. Always remember my advice. The only one stopping you from achieving greatness is _yourself_."

"I know, I know." Max said, biting her bottom lip and looking as if she wanted to evaporate into thin air. This was still something they needed to work on although he was also aware that you sometimes couldn't force an artist to work.

* * *

Hand in hand Max and Mark stepped out of the barn, pausing a few seconds and inhaling the cold scent of the crisp autumn air. There was still a faint smell of hay lingering in her nose as they made their way to his sedan. The night sky was covered with dark, ominous clouds now, the first harbingers of approaching rain. Maybe this weather perfectly reflected how all this felt to her. Max had been on a quest to find incriminating evidence against Nathan Prescott and instead she had acquired unexpected knowledge about the man she loved.

This dark room had possessed an eerie aura, like the Prescott barn itself. It wasn't a place that felt inviting or comfortable to her. On the contrary, the lack of color gave it a sterile, distant feeling and she had been somehow relieved when Mark had proposed to return to Arcadia Bay now. The clouds obscuring the night sky were a fitting image in her eyes. One could almost say they represented the veil over Mark's dark secrets. The ones he hid from everyone else to pursue his own artistic vision.

And although she was aware that this kind of photography was wrong, she couldn't blame his actions.

' _I've captured Nathan in this same unconscious state and I don't regret anything. This session had been like a therapy for me. It took away all my fears, it gave me confidence and most of all strength. How can I claim that Mark's photography is bad when I had taken my pictures in a similar manner? If this is supposed to be evil, then I don't care. My life had been hell and Mark was the only one who was there for me, who always stayed at my side. I won't abandon him. Never!_ ' Max thought, walking towards the car and replaying their past conversation in her mind.

There was still hope. If he indeed regarded her as his one and only muse, she might become a positive influence on him. Well, it might be a foolish idea but she hoped their relationship could be a further step to heal Mark's wounded soul. His terrible childhood experiences still haunted him and he had made sure to keep it to himself, not wanting to let anyone else see this other, this vulnerable side of him.

' _Mark trusts me, he confided in me. Now it's my turn to help him in return_.' Max thought and all these images inside that one red binder were resurfacing in her inner mind's eye. Of course she wasn't a therapist but it made somehow sense to her what he tried to accomplish here. To fight his inner demons he chose to face them head-on through his own photography. Her teacher sought to recreate a setting to process his own bad memories, to paint his models in black and white colors of despair, fear and helplessness, thus seeking his own tranquility, his own peace.

It was no wonder that Mark admired Ansel Adams so much. There was this one Adams quote which she couldn't get out of her head. _You don't take a photograph, you make it_. Mark meticulously followed this rule with his own approach when he himself became the creator of his own shot. When he became the one who put the fear into his model's eyes. And Max knew his obsession would only end if he'd be able to take that one picture which encompassed everything. Everything he was looking for.

At least it calmed her nerves to have his reassurance that he would never capture anyone else in this underground photography studio again.

Max only absentmindedly registered that she was now sitting in the comfortable and warm passenger seat of Mark's car. Quiet jazz music engulfed them. A swinging rhythm giving her a feeling of lightness. A content hum left Mark's lips as his fingers lightly tapped against the steering wheel, clearly enjoying the upbeat beats of the music.

Her eyes stared at the glass, watching how water droplets softly splashed against the car windows, the raindrops racing down as his car gained speed. The sight of rain combined with the quiet sound of his wiper blades and jazz music in her ears calmed her, it made her feel at ease after everything she had learned today.

"You must be tired." He remarked softly, throwing her a side glance and turning his attention back to the deserted street.

"I'm okay." Max assured him and leaned her head back against the headrest, her eyes still fixed on the road ahead, gazing into an endless darkness.

"Our investigation didn't give me the answers I was hoping to find there." Max murmured and couldn't hide the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

There was a pause and then, after a few heartbeats Mark grew pensive and asked in a curious tone. "And _what_ exactly were you hoping to find?"

Max grimaced and exhaled in a fatigued way. "Strong evidence against Nathan, I guess. That disturbing drawing we found at Principal Wells' office clearly suggests that there must be a connection between him, the dark room and Rachel Amber."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened visibly, his knuckles becoming white. He gave her a challenging gaze, his interest piqued as he wanted to know. "Tell me, Max. What does your gut feeling say? Do you think Rachel is still _alive_?"

She compressed her lips to a thin line and lowered her gaze to her lap, evading his intense, questioning eyes which seemed to penetrate her. Despite the glass barrier between his eyes and hers she still felt slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. "I...", she began hesitantly and finally shook her head. "I have a bad feeling about all this... I don't know but I think... I fear... she's dead."

His index finger drummed against the black leather wheel again and he paused once more. When he next spoke some of the edge had left his voice. "I'm afraid you're on the right track here. Rachel Amber...", he let out a long sigh and his expression visibly darkened as he finally finished, "is no longer with us."

Max swallowed hard and stared at him with wide eyes. "How?" She asked in a surprised tone, her mind still reeling after receiving this shocking piece of information.

While she waited for an answer with bated breath, he was ever calm as if nothing could truly faze him. He ran the the tip of his tongue along the edges of his front teeth slowly and his eyes betrayed no sign of emotion as he replied in a slightly disappointed tone. "It was Nathan Prescott who killed her. The idiot gave her an overdose. It's a tragedy, really. The boy thought he could be an artist like me. That he could mimic what I do with a camera and subject."

Mark ran a hand through his dark brown hair and loosed an exaggerated sigh. "This incident clearly shows that Nathan is still an amateur and I'm afraid his mental instability and paranoia made him an unpredictable threat."

Max swallowed hard, trying to find her voice again. " _All this time_ you _knew_ that Rachel Amber is _dead_? Why didn't you contact the police? I don't understand..."

He seemed to consider her questions for a moment and narrowed his eyes. His voice sounded colder than before as he answered. "And what would happen if I tell the police about Nathan, Max? It's no secret that the entire Arcadia Bay police department is corrupt and in Sean Prescott's pocket. This man will make sure to get his son off without a trial and they will arrest _me_ instead. It would be so easy for those cops to cover everything up and put the blame on me. The photography teacher who manipulated the lost, confused boy to commit murder. Add his bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and psychosis to the facts and it becomes even more plausible that he's the victim here and not the culprit."

The man chose to pull over to the side of the road now, the car headlights shining brightly into the night, its white light streaming into the rainy darkness. The sound of the pitter patter of rain became louder now, making her feel even more agitated.

His expression grew stern as he leaned forward in his driver's seat and added. "You've seen it with your _own eyes_ , remember? Even at Blackwell Academy you've experienced this injustice yourself. Nathan is practically untouchable. His father owns this entire damn town and he can do as he pleases."

Max wanted to speak, but bit back what she had in mind to say and began again. "But-but Nathan is dangerous! Jesus, he even _killed Rachel_! We have to do something or-or he will hurt Chloe too."

"I doubt Nathan would hurt your friend. It seems she found a way to soothe his emotional pain. He even told me that he likes her." He remarked in a level voice, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and lightly squeezing it.

' _How can he be so sure about this? Nathan attacked me and even drugged me like Rachel! This asshole is a crazy lunatic! Or worse, a psychopath!_ ' Max thought, feeling her body stiffening and her unease only increasing.

"I don't know, Mark. I would feel more safe if we would actually _do_ something about _this_. I mean, he _killed_ another student. That's _horrible_! We have to stop him!" She urged him, her face betraying her fears and concerns.

"No." Mark said firmly, a fierce light coming into his brown eyes. "Do you really want me to lose _everything_? Do you think I should rot in jail for Nathan's crimes?"

There was another silence between them where both just stared at each other. Max didn't know what to say. He was right. It had happened to her before, twice even. Nathan had hurt her and in the end he always got away scot-free. It was so unfair.

She locked eyes with him and whispered. "No, I don't. But there _must be_ another way."

Mark gazed at her and his expression changed, becoming softer as he assured her. "Let _me_ handle _this problem_ and I promise you Nathan Prescott will _never_ hurt you or your friend again."

The young woman saw him giving her a reassuring look. It was a look she knew so well by now, telling her that everything would be alright and that he would lift all her worries.

"You know I _trust_ you, Mark." She said, holding his gaze and just watching his intense eyes alone brought color to her face.

He locked eyes with her. "And I _trust you_ , Max. So I can only hope you won't betray that trust I've placed in you. Because if you do and act against my wishes, I'm afraid we'll _never_ see each other again."

Max remained silent for a long moment. This seemed to be like a test. A test to find out if she was really trustworthy in his eyes. It was fairly obvious what was at stake here. His entire career, his reputation, his future and most of all his freedom. Would she be willing to give it all up just to have one tiny chance to see Nathan Prescott behind bars? Mark had dragged her into his world and now she had secrets to keep, lies to tell. Her life would never be the same again.

His eyes were appraising her and a cold sinking feeling ran down her spine. The seconds ticked by and she was wrestling with herself, trying to make the right decision here. Her brain pushed her to get in touch with the police as soon as possible yet in her heart she wanted to entrust this issue to Mark.

She could feel her stomach in her abdomen now as she asked him. "What would _you_ do? Would you _kill him_?"

The older man paused to regard her, his voice without any emotion as he explained plainly. "If he leaves me no other choice and if it's the only way to _protect you_... yes, Max. You see, Nathan is mentally unhinged and sometimes it appears that he's disconnected from reality. This often happens when he refuses to take his meds and turns to drugs instead. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a cold-blooded murderer. I prefer to leave the people I have to deal with unscathed. This method is safe, discreet and it doesn't raise as much commotion as a trail of missing persons. Also I wouldn't be able to pursue my own vision if I were that careless. Anyway, what I want to clarify here is to _which lengths_ I'm willing to go... _for you_."

Max's facial expression hardened and right now she only felt hatred towards Nathan. Even a small part of her wished she could get rid of him herself so that he could never hurt or kill anyone else again. And if his life would end she was certain she wouldn't even shed a single tear for him. Not after everything he had done.

Max shifted in her seat and remarked carefully. "I still don't understand this. Although you knew what he did to Rachel you still gave him these private tutoring lessons? _Why_? Why didn't you abandon him?"

"I've told you before I'm not perfect. I've been confident that I could solve this problem on my own. Believe me, I've only wanted to help him. Photography can be therapeutic, especially in Nathan's case. His morbid monochrome shots reflect the abstract chaos raging inside his mind. Maybe it was a reckless endeavor to aid him finding his way back to reality. It's fairly obvious that he needs professional treatment. Yet, I was also the only one who tried to do _something_ here. Even his own psychiatrist couldn't get through to him. So you see, this whole situation is a lot more complicated than it might seem. Sean Prescott is a shitty father who only pressures his son and who never shows any kind of affection. I guess this is why I became some sort of father figure for Nathan. I became the family he so desperately needed and I _had_ to seize this opportunity. Do you understand?"

She leaned back against her passenger's seat and studied him uncertainly. "It makes sense, yes. Though if things would have been different then maybe... maybe Rachel's death could have been avoided."

Mark took a deep breath and his gaze shifted back to the front window pane, his eyes staring into the impenetrable darkness outside. The rain crashed through the clouds and tumbled down, crackling like stones against the windows. When his eyes returned to her, his lips parted into a sad smile. "We will never know, Max. And it won't get us anywhere to dwell on the past now. What's important is to focus on the future, on the here and now. Okay?"

For a moment the young student remained silent, turning away and watching the rain pelt down on the windshield. ' _He's right. We can't change the past. Rachel is dead and nothing will change that fact. I should only worry about Chloe now. She's closer to Nathan than anyone of us and this can put her in serious danger_.' Max thought and gave him a nod. "You're right. So what now?"

"I think it would be best if I get you back to Blackwell now. You need rest and I'm sure you also need some time and space for yourself to process all this." Mark suggested and started his engine again.

A calm washed over her now as their eyes met once again. In those brown irises she could see her own reflection. A pale and tired expression on her face. After a long pause she finally had the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at her mind for some time now. "How did she... _die_? Please, Mark. I need to know."

"Are you _really_ sure you want to hear this?" He inquired, tilting his head and looking worried.

"Yes." She reassured him and Mark exhaled deeply.

"Nathan had been infatuated with Rachel but she never reciprocated his feelings. So he decided to kidnap her and accidentally administered an overdose. He had called me late at night that day but it had been too late. When I arrived I could only determine her death. Her face had been very pale and I assume she must have suffocated in her own vomit. There were traces of its substance still dripping from her open mouth. I'm sorry that she had to die under these dreadful circumstances. But then again I feel she was never meant to live a long life anyway."

Getting to know all the details concerning Rachel's death made the blood run cold in her veins. She felt like the walls were closing in, like the darkness all around her was overwhelming and swallowing her. She could barely breathe, her throat felt dry and constricted when she asked him. "What-what do you mean by that?"

Mark adjusted his glasses and kept his voice calm and even. "Well, Rachel had already faced a lot of problems in her young life. Family issues, relationship problems, drug addiction, the pressure to succeed and to be perfect in everyone's eyes... it was all there. Those who have been close to her knew that she was set on a path of self-destruction and I fear sooner or later these troubles would have ruined her. Trust me, her downfall would have only been a matter of time. It would have happened sooner or later."

This was all too much. Max felt sick and dizzy. She was breathing but the air didn't want to go into her lungs, as if a heavy weight was being pushed down on her chest. All of a sudden her panic rose and all her instincts screamed at her to get out of the car, to get some fresh air. It was a feeling of moving underwater when her hand reached out to open the door.

With her last ounce of strength she dragged herself outside into the pouring rain and leaned her tired body against the side of the car, closing her eyes and feeling how the cold water soaked through her hoodie and t-shirt, reaching her skin. Max let the precious air fill her lungs as if she could finally breathe after a very long time. For a moment she could forget everything. Everything she had learned today. As if each drop of water could wash away her anxiety and fears and cleanse her.

Soon Mark hurried to her side and without saying another word he just took her in his arms. His embrace was so strong that she could feel every ounce of his body pressing into hers. Sinking into his inviting warmth the world around her ceased to exist and only he was here with her. She hugged him tighter and allowed herself to relax, listening to his steady heartbeat and reveling in the feel of the fabric of his white shirt against her cheek. Inhaling the familiar scent of his sandalwood cologne was more than enough to ground herself again.

He rested his chin on top of her head and his warm fingers danced across the small of her back, his fingertips drawing circles, giving her comfort.

"Are you okay, Max?" She heard him ask softly, his concern audible in his voice.

"I-I just needed some fresh air. I'm okay, really." Max muttered and couldn't help but sigh when he pulled her into him, into the broadness of his chest and wrapped his black suit jacket around her shoulders to protect her from the heavy rain.

Her teacher peppered her forehead with soft kisses and whispered against the shell of her ear. "Max, I know you're shocked and I know you've been through a terrible ordeal with what Nathan had done to you. But don't let your worries overtake you. You have to _stay strong_."

Max felt his hot breath only inches away from her and looked up at him. His intent eyes were studying her face, seeing the tears shimmering in her blue eyes. Max knew he was right and she could only nod in return.

Mark gently smoothed her brown hair back and rested his palm on her cheek, suggesting in a calm tone. "Come, let's get you back inside. I don't want my favorite student to catch a cold, okay?"

* * *

Silence hung over them as the sedan cruised down the lonely highway, its headlights blurred in the seemingly neverending rain. Both were dealing with their own thoughts now and all Max wanted was to get back into the safety of her dorm room, to bury herself under the cozy sheets of her bed. It would surely take time to process all this and to think through everything very carefully. Maybe she wouldn't find any sleep tonight. Her mind was a total mess and she couldn't discern anymore what was right and what was wrong. All the lines were blurring.

As the car came to a sudden halt she was pulled out of her thoughts. Her eyes scanned the area outside, recognizing the familiar surroundings of her campus.

' _Home sweet home_.' Max thought with a lump in her throat and slowly released her seat belt. Mark turned towards her to address her and his hand traveled down, seeking her own and grasping it. "Are you scared, Max?"

His question made her nervous and her eyes flickered up to meet his as she whispered. "Yes."

Mark came closer, his inquiring eyes looked deep into hers as if they were trying to pierce straight into her soul, questioning her. " _Of me_?"

A considerable moment of silence passed between the question and the answer.

"Of _myself_." Max finally admitted quietly and knew it was true. She had changed so much in these past few weeks that her own thoughts began to frighten her, that she was even considering to kill Nathan herself. For a second she felt like being lost, teetering on the edge of nightmare and reality.

Her honest response seemed to surprise him and she could feel his hot breath ghosting over her skin as he told her firmly. "Don't be, there's nothing to fear."

He reached forward, brushed some strands of hair away from her face with his index finger and went on. "Frederick Douglass once said that there is no progress without struggle. This road you're going down will inevitably change you, yes. But you will also discover a new world and you will also see yourself with new eyes again."

"Believe me, I know what you're going through, Max. I _see_ you. I _see all you are_ and _who_ you can _become_. Let _me_ be _the one_ to push the boundaries of what you're capable of. Allow yourself to challenge the norms like other artists did before you. Let me guide you. Let me help you understand yourself." Max's eyes were drawn to his and she let his words slowly sink in. If there was a darkness residing in his soul, didn't she harbor it as well? Maybe this was what he always wanted her to realize, that they were both artists who were not so different from each other after all. All she needed was him. Mark had become the only constant in her life. He was her rock in the middle of a stormy, roiling sea. The only person she could rely on.

Still, there were doubts lingering in her mind. He had lied to her about himself, about Nathan. Of course he had done all that to protect himself but could she trust him now?

"I need you, Mark. But I also have this feeling that I don't know everything there is to know about you." Max added in a hushed tone, not knowing if she went too far here, questioning him like this.

To her surprise Mark didn't seem offended at all. A playful smirk appeared on his lips and a light shone in his brown eyes as he informed her. "There are many layers behind a mask. And I intend to lift them all for you. But you must understand that this unmasking is also a painful process. So let's handle one layer at a time, cool?"

"Okay." The brunette smiled in return, seemingly content with his answer. One part of her longed to solve this puzzle Mark Jefferson represented. This man was like a book shut with over a thousand locks and she sometimes had the impression he only let her see what he wanted her to see. Another part of her was drawn to this dark, mysterious aura of his. It was his darkness which made him attractive and alluring in her eyes. It fascinated her. It made her heart pound wildly in her chest and it titillated her like nothing else. Maybe there were some secrets that should never be revealed. And maybe it was better that they would forever remain a mystery.

* * *

The moonlight spilled into the darkness of his home office room, its silver beam illuminating the man sitting alone at his huge rosewood desk. The blackness of the night soothed Mark Jefferson. He had this feeling he could blend into the shadows, become one with them. Many underestimated the color black. An absence of color that held so many secrets like he himself.

Sleep wasn't an option right now. There was too much weighing on his mind which kept him occupied. It had been a huge risk to reveal the truth about Rachel's demise. Had it been too early to share this particular secret? He couldn't really say but he also knew there was no other way. This was necessary. It was Max's final test and he was more than curious if she would pass it or not.

What a strange turn of events this was. Of course Mark had anticipated that his muse's nosiness might get in the way of his plans and could complicate a lot of things. So he deemed it wise to present her a few breadcrumbs of information which would turn her attention towards Nathan Prescott instead. But he hadn't expected Rachel Amber of all things to become the proof of Max's loyalty to him.

 _'Rachel Amber...'_ He repeated her name in his thoughts, tasted it like a very old, exquisite and almost forgotten vintage. There were times where he still missed her. On one hand he would have loved to learn more about her. Mark knew she was special. This young woman had been able to brighten up an entire classroom, just with her mere presence. She was a free soul who didn't let anyone dictate her life. Yet, this wasn't what had caught his attention in the first place. Rachel had possessed the rare gift to melt into any group or crowd and to become the center of everyone's attention.

She was an actor, a human chameleon who could be as manipulative and cunning as he was. Mark knew that the stronger her light was, the darker her shadow became. Beneath that angelic face and all that makeup had been so much more lying underneath the surface. Negative feelings like sadness, bitterness, anger and rage had been boiling deep inside of her. To bring all that pent up emotion out in a session would have proven to be an interesting challenge. There were many layers of her personality which had only been waiting to be uncovered by him.

On the other hand he deeply regretted all those lost opportunities to capture her through the lens of his Hasselblad camera. It would have been so satisfying to unveil her completely, piece by piece, layer by layer. A sigh left his lips. It was all in the past, like a fleeting memory. What truly mattered now was to set his entire focus on Max Caulfield.

He hoped and anticipated that the outcome of his test would be positive but he couldn't say for sure which decision Max would reach. All this was a gamble. A gamble which could mess up all his plans and preparations. To calm his nerves he poured himself a whiskey, swishing the amber liquid around in his glass. The familiar fragrance invaded his nostrils and he paused for a moment, thinking to himself. ' _What will your decision be, Maxine? Will you betray me or will you choose to stay at my side?_ '

Mark narrowed his brown eyes and took a small sip, allowing the liquid to rest along his tongue and to savor its scent. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the flavor for a few seconds before he finally swallowed it, feeling a burning in the back of his throat. When he opened his eyes again he immediately spotted the lyrics on his wall. Words which always served as his motivational source and kept him going. ' _It's a new dawn. It's a new life. For me. And I'm feeling good_.'

A knowing smile spread across his lips and the photography teacher downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot. ' _It will be a new life. For us. Isn't that so, Max?_ '

* * *

Max could find no sleep that night. Her mind was filled with chaos and whenever she tried to close her tired eyes and allowed sleep to overcome her, strange images of Mark, Nathan and Chloe haunted her in her dreams. And then she would always wake up and gasp for air, feeling drops of sweat run down her forehead. What she had learned thus far had been enough by itself to set her heart racing in her chest. The thin line between right and wrong was vanishing. Drugging his models to create his art was a questionable method, yes. But was it really so wrong to do this? No one had ever been harmed or would ever remember any of those weird sessions. And what about Nathan? Of course it would only be reasonable to alarm the police but what would happen then?

' _Mark is right about this. The whole police force is corrupt. It would be a foolish attempt to accuse Nathan of murdering Rachel. There's also no evidence left. We don't even have a single clue where that psycho buried her dead body_.' Max thought and breathed out a heavy sigh.

' _But can I just sit here and do nothing? No, I need to save Chloe at all costs! I don't want her to become the next Rachel Amber_.' The fear to lose her closest friend hung over her head like a executioner's blade. This uncertainty and Nathan's unpredictability made her extremely nervous. She had to do something to protect Chloe. Maybe she would need to acquire a weapon. Just in case.

 _'Desperate times require desperate measures, right?'_ Max justified her decision with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Although Max now knew what she wanted, she didn't feel any calmer. On the contrary, this damn restlessness wouldn't leave her. It was no use. Her hand grabbed her earphones and mp3 player on the nightstand. Soon the soothing melody of Syd Matters flowed through her and seemed to relax her somewhat. The strumming sound of the acoustic guitar created a wonderful refrain and sang to her. Losing herself in the music she could finally find some sort of rest, letting exhaustion overcome her and allowing herself to slowly drift off to sleep.

* * *

The smell of weed and cigarette smoke permeated the air of Hayden Jones' small dorm room. The damn windows were closed and Nathan had this feeling to be surrounded by fog and dense clouds which made him more than just a little dizzy. This room was a video gamer's paradise. It didn't have much furniture, only a bed, a desk, some shelves filled with games and a comfortable couch. Countless cables ran across the whole beige-colored floor and bits and pieces of hardware stuff just lay there scattered on the ground. While Nathan preferred to keep his room tidy and clean, Hayden's gaming lair was just one fucking mess.

His buddy was chilling on the brown leather sofa together with him, being extremely high as always and only babbling nonsense in his ears.

"Man, I'm so stoned. I'm supposed to study for exams but you know what? Fuck that crap! We came here to party, right bro?" Hayden slurred, nudging him with his elbow and smiling like a fucking idiot.

Nathan shot him an annoyed glare and lit his own cig now. His fingers trembled as he took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out between his lips. His dark blue eyes watched the gray tendrils of smoke swirl up in the air and he was waiting for that familiar buzz feeling now, that short moment of comfort when he thought that all his problems would just vanish into thin air with each and every drag of his cigarette.

Yet deep inside his heart he knew it wasn't so. He was still Nathan fucking Prescott, a failure and disappointment in Sean's eyes. Nothing would ever change that fact. But this time it didn't irk him as much as it usually did. On the contrary, since he met Chloe Price, the blue-haired punk without memories, he had felt freedom for the first time in his life. Nothing seemed to bother him anymore. Not his dad, not Mark, nor his fucking psychiatrist Doc Jacobi or the jealous chatter of those dumb brats at Blackwell Academy.

Hanging out with his mate Hayden felt almost alien to him. This wasn't the place where he wanted to be. No, his place was at _her side_ , sitting together with her in that one white hospital room. In that one tiny, safe bubble where he could just be himself.

Oh, how he wanted to go there now. Nathan had finally made up his mind. He wanted to tell her everything about Rachel. Chloe showed the first promising signs that increased her chances to fully regain her memories. Fragments of moments spent with her friend Rachel Amber were coming back to her at last. On one hand it made him incredibly happy to see how she celebrated every little success like a jolly child. She would laugh, jump up and down on her bed and then fall into his arms with tears glistening in her eyes. It was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind forever. Moments of pure joy and sharing that feeling with someone she loved. Every new memory was a treasure, a victory for Chloe.

But on the other hand he feared that she would remember everything soon. That was why he couldn't wait any longer. He had to act now. He had to tell her the truth. Chloe deserved to know what had happened to her angel Rachel and maybe then, after he confessed all his crimes and sins to her, he hoped she would forgive him. Her forgiveness would mean the world to him. It would show him that he wasn't such a fucking asshole after all, that even he could do something right in his messed up life. That he was willing to turn his life around and to start anew. And maybe then he would get another chance. A chance to find a place in someone else's heart.

His thoughts about his friend Chloe were interrupted when Hayden began to sing very loudly. "Oh, baby. I love for you to call me baby. Come on, you _retro selfie master_ , squeeze me real tight. You make wrong things right."

' _Max fucking Caulfield. That fucking dyke can go to hell and stay the fuck there!_ ' Nathan thought and snarled. "Don't you ever mention that fucking Jefferson groupie here, bro."

"Shit man, what's wrong with you? Don't yell at me like that! Did you forget to take your fucking pills or what?" Hayden hissed back and blinked his eyes in confusion. Nathan's sudden outburst must have caught him completely off-guard again.

The young Prescott froze and rubbed his temples with his fingers, murmuring in an irritated voice. "Listen, I hate that nerd chick and her shitty selfies, okay? She's just lame, average and boring. You shouldn't give a shit about her, really."

Hayden sank back against the couch and took another sip of his beer, babbling. "Hey, chill. It's okay. Didn't know you hate Max that much."

"That bitch is just annoying. That's all." Nathan grimaced and searched his inner jacket pockets for some weed.

Hayden grinned and gestured at them both. "Whatever, bro. There are many other hot girls here at Blackwell and they're just waiting for us Vortex boys to shake that sexy booty."

Nathan sniffed at that. "I don't need a girl. I already have _one_."

"Congrats, mate." His friend spoke with a slur, raising his beer bottle and giving him a suggestive smile.

"Yeah. Anyway..." Nathan paused for a moment and stared at the ground, looking pensive all of a sudden and muttering more to himself, "I'm about to do _something_. So maybe..."

His facial expression became very serious now as he turned to Hayden and continued. "Maybe we'll _never_ see each other again."

"Whoa, wait a sec, dude! You talk some crazy shit over there. Don't tell me you took those fucking red pills again. Those are bad, man. Really, really bad." Hayden told him, his head swinging from side to side like a drunk man trying to keep his balance on a tumbling ship.

"I'm actually sober." Nathan confessed and also knew that he had to be. He would need a clear head to get through the next fucking day tomorrow. It won't be easy. His withdrawal from drugs had many undesirable side effects. Sometimes he had a fever or had no appetite at all. Other times his whole body shook uncontrollably or he bathed in his own sweat. The worst thing were those fucking headaches which made it difficult to think clearly.

Yet all this was nothing compared to the upcoming task of facing the one person in his life who had a grip on him like no one else. His mentor. There was no way in hell that he could avoid Mark's powers of observation in class. Photographers like him had a knack for picking up the smallest details. This man could read him like an open book. He couldn't hide a damn thing from him.

But there was also something else. Nathan felt he owed it to Mark to tell him about his decision. Their partnership would soon come to an end and his teacher deserved it that he gave him a head start. He was aware of the consequences if he would tell Chloe all about Rachel. The possibility was high that she would call the cops. Yet at this point he didn't really care anymore. He had nothing left to lose. The world felt like a nightmare. Reality was like a sick joke. Just when he thought he might lose it entirely Chloe was the one who woke him up again. At last. But even she couldn't help him to cope with this emotional turmoil, with this nauseating feeling of guilt that weighed him down.

There was no turning back now. His path was set. Would Mark understand his reasons? The man always placed his vision above anything else. Having a clear conscience didn't really interest him. What counted was only his work. Nevertheless Nathan couldn't deny that they also shared some warm, genuine moments during their partnership. Sometimes it had been a soft pat on his shoulder, other times an encouraging hug or simple words which always filled the boy's fragile heart with pure joy. Maybe even a man like Mark Jefferson possessed a soft side hidden beneath that cold, polished and calm exterior.

Tomorrow's meeting would tell him if the teacher he looked up to would show understanding in this matter. Only Mark knew how much Rachel's death had been tormenting him in these past few months.

Be that as it may, the Prescott boy didn't need Mark's consent to do this. Nathan had already made up his mind. This was what he had to do. To set things right again and to finally find some sort of redemption in his fucked up life.


	15. Chapter 14: Let it burn

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **A/N:** _As always thanks to my reviewers Debra Smith, lunamoon531 and ambernass25 for taking the time to leave a review. It makes me really happy to see you guys enjoying this story. :) And I'm sorry again the update took so long. This was a difficult chapter and it's also the longest one I've ever written. Once again thank you all for your feedback and support. It really means a lot to me._

 **Chapter 14: Let It Burn**

The sun rose slowly, its rays soaking Max's small dorm room in warm, orange hues. The young woman awoke as the darkness behind her eyelids turned to a dull red glow. Slowly opening her eyes, Max snapped them shut immediately, little explosions of color dancing in her vision. She eventually opened her eyes again and the light did sting a bit but it wasn't so bad as seconds before.

Groaning and blinking a few times, Max needed more than just a moment to shake off the fatigue from her brain and body. She instinctively pulled the soft sheets tighter to herself and gazed at the windows, deep in thought.

Last night still felt like a strange dream to her. Or was it a nightmare? She wondered if all she had heard and learned that night was true at all. The creepy drawings in the principal's office, the old barn and its underground photography studio, Rachel Amber's death, Mark's obsession, the sedative drugs or the horrible truth about Nathan Prescott. That this psycho was indeed a murderer.

Sinister images still lingered in her mind like a fever dream flashing before her eyes, obscured only slightly by a crimson haze. Images of dead bodies lying on the white, cold floor of the dark room, piling up like a mountain of corpses in a pool of blood. And all of them revealed the same face. The visage of Rachel Amber with her lifeless eyes staring back at her. Just thinking about it made her shiver again.

Thankfully the inviting light of the new day distracted her troubled and concerned mind, warming and soothing her skin. A yawn escaped her lips. As she slowly got up, her fingers lazily rubbed the remainders of sleep from her blue eyes. Photographers like her loved the imagery of dawn. The beauty of a magnificent sunrise was magical and every photographer knew how to play that game of chasing the perfect light.

Dawn was an optimal time to shoot photos. Everything was evenly lit in a luminous pastel glow and replicating such flawless tonality was almost impossible in an artificial studio environment. It was always a challenging task to translate that particular breathtaking moment into the perfect picture.

There was a certain fascination for many to capture the radiant sun peaking above the horizon with its beams of light illuminating the crimson skies. In addition, this quality of the light was only possible at dawn or dusk. It was unobtainable at any other time of the day which reminded her once again why she loved photography so much. Why it felt so fulfilling to capture a single moment in time, to make that one moment last forever.

For a few minutes she just sat there on the edge of her bed, watching that soft light, almost feeling hypnotized by this view. But a glance at her bedside clock was enough to snap her out of her trance. Like a robot on auto-pilot she absentmindedly grabbed her small bag of shower supplies and walked straight to the girls bathroom. It was still so early that no one else was here yet. She was the first who stepped into the narrow shower cabin, feeling the cold tiled floor underneath her naked feet.

Now that she became more awake she felt her mind reeling again. It was as if her heart and stomach took off running in opposite directions and what she really needed was that feeling of water on her skin. To let it pour down on her like a waterfall, to let the mere sensation calm her down again. The water cascading down her body alternated between freezing cold and hot enough to turn her white skin red. Max stayed like that for a while, engulfed by clouds of steam and a comfortable heat surrounding her. Her strained muscles were beginning to relax and all her incoherent thoughts whirling inside her mind were silenced at last. At least here she could find some peace and have a little time for herself before the new school day started.

After returning to her room she tried to eat something to get some of her strength back. But her stomach seemed to bear the full load of her mental and physical stress, leaving her with practically no appetite at all.

A look in the mirror was enough to remind her that she looked like a total zombie straight out of a Walking Dead episode again. She was very pale, had an exhausted expression on her face, almost like a living ghost. Her hand quickly went to her little makeup case and took her eyeliner out. She was very careful as she smudged it all around the lash line, top and bottom. This would hopefully be enough to conceal the dark rings under her eyes. And to have at least a bit of color on her she decided to wear her pink doe t-shirt today, hoping the bright color would distract everyone's eyes from focusing too much on her tired face.

' _Or maybe everyone around here is already used to see me like that. Zombie Apocalypse, here I come_.' She thought with a wry smile as she took her shoulder bag and left her dorm room. Quickly scanning the corridor she let out a sigh of relief. Most of the rooms were still closed.

' _Good. I don't need Queen Beeatch Victoria and her snob minions making fun of me so early in the morning_.' Max grimaced while she passed the rich girl's door and heard that familiar, loud hip hop music coming from her room.

Pausing at Dana's dorm room she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. She didn't feel like talking to anyone at all today and just wanted to be left alone. Yet she really needed Dana's help and had to do this.

' _Come on, Super Max. You're not here to win a super model contest or anything like that. You're here to save Chloe_.' She told herself and finally gathered enough confidence to knock on the wooden door.

The Bigfoot cheerleader opened and removed the earphones from her ears. She was visibly sweating and a little out of breath. Max realized she had probably interrupted Dana's daily morning fitness exercises. The young woman was dressed in fashionable high-waisted leggings and a breezy tank top. But it didn't really matter what Dana wore, she always looked sexy and perfect.

"Oh, mornin' Max. Did you fall out of your bed or something? What's up?" She asked and grabbed a towel from her chair to wipe some sweat from her face.

"I need your help. Do you have a minute?" Max wanted to know, already doubting again if her stupid idea would work at all.

Dana seemed to study her serious face for a moment and then grinned. "What happened? Don't tell me Max Caulfield wants some weed or... you know, maybe even some oxy to survive another shitty day at Blackwell."

" _What_? _Drugs_? No, that's not what I meant." She quickly clarified, looking slightly embarrassed that Dana would even think something like this.

The taller girl laughed and nudged her shoulder. "Just kidding, Max. I know you're not into this stuff. So what do you want then?"

"Uh, remember when you once told me the other day that some of those Bigfoot jocks were getting on your nerves and you had to scare them away with your, uh, taser? I think I might need _that_ too." Max said and inwardly prayed that Dana would allow her to borrow hers.

Dana already cracked her knuckles and narrowed her eyes. "Do those shitheads harass you too? I'll sort them out, no problem."

"No, it's not them. It's, um, well, you see, it's about Nathan Prescott. He really scares the shit out of me lately and I'd feel a lot more safe if I actually had something, _anything_ to protect myself. Maybe I'm being paranoid here but yeah. Just look at _me_. I can't get any sleep at night because I worry too much about that weirdo. I know he's your friend and all but you also know him right? I'm sure you know him better than I do." Max had that look of despair and helplessness written all over her face now and saw Dana sighing in return.

"Oh yes, I _know_ him. And believe me, I can see why he freaks you out. I gotta admit he sometimes creeps me out too. Nate has serious problems and he really needs help, but _not_ from his parents." Dana explained with a grim expression on her face and then went over to her desk. After rummaging through her belongings in her drawer she exclaimed "Bingo!", taking out the electrical weapon.

"Here it is. My dad's a police officer and told me how to use it. I know it's for police purposes only and I've never actually shot anyone with it. It's really enough to show it as a warning. I guarantee you Nathan will keep his distance once he sees you with this lil' baby here. You'll be alright, okay?" Dana handed her the weapon and Max inspected the taser carefully. It wouldn't kill Nathan but it would be enough to stun him. She just hoped she would only use this as a last resort. There had to be another way to resolve this problem without any violence.

Max nodded at the other girl, smiling gratefully. "Thank you so much, Dana. You're a life-saver, really. I just hope I never have to use this thing."

"Trust me, you won't need it, amiga. Those boys don't care one bit when they see us fumbling with pepper spray but once you point a taser at them they'll shit their pants. I can _guarantee_ this, I've seen it all." Dana assured her and Max couldn't help but smile at that. ' _Don't mess with Dana Ward, bitches_. _Or me, Electro Max_.'

* * *

Blackwell's hallways were crowded with students as always. Giggles and laughter could be heard everywhere. Many were just standing around chatting with someone else while others just silently stared at the display screen of their cellphones.

Max sighed and pushed her way through the throng of students and felt a huge lump in her throat whenever she spotted another one of Rachel's missing person posters plastered on the walls. Now that she had found out about her fate, she realized how sad and depressing this all was. Her parents would never know what really happened to their daughter. Didn't they deserve some kind of closure? Was she the one who took it from them by deciding not to go to the police? Also the big question was if her murderer would ever be brought to justice.

' _No matter how peaceful and remote Blackwell seems, you can't escape the real world here, right?_ ' The thought alone left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and she had to fight back the bile in her throat, nearly vomiting right there on the floor. After taking a few deep breaths the brunette quickly tried to turn her focus on her next lesson instead. Science class with Mrs. Grant.

The second she entered the class the strange odors of the science lab filled her nose. It was a mixture of rotten egg and a musty, metallic smell, making her wrinkle her nose. The lab was an oasis of silence in this school. Only the low, constant humming sound of the aquarium's pumps reached her ears here.

It seemed her geek friend Warren was already expecting her and greeted her with a big smile, stretching from ear to ear. "Yo, Dr. Maxstein. Welcome to the sci-fi lab where I...", he gave her a slight bow and went on, "the great Doc Warren himself shall introduce you to the wonders of science. Oh, and please remember, I still don't have Schrodinger's kitty."

"Hey Warren. It feels good to see you again." Max gave him a warm smile in return and sat down on the chair next to him.

He winked at her and took out his cellphone. "Wow, now look at _that_ , Houston. She's _smiling_. This is rare. I should take a pic, you know. To make this moment immortal as you fancy photographer folks say."

Max waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and playfully punched his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Photoshop, no photos today. I look like total crap. Let me have my relaxing bath and beauty sleep first and then we can try this session again, deal?"

Warren seemed disappointed and placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. "I have like, what, three photos of you? And here I hoped I could add more to my little Maxster collection."

She grimaced and murmured. "Next time, I promise. I don't think you want zombie pics in your awesome portfolio."

Her friend grinned and assured her. "I don't care if it's zombie mode Max or pretty Max. You'll _always_ look awesome _to me_."

Max stared at him in surprise for a moment and Warren quickly averted his eyes, clearly embarrassed as if he had just now realized what he had said.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and mumbled. "Uhm, anyway, I've heard we'll continue with particle physics today. I'm sure it'll be a blast."

"Well, I wish a bonehead like me would understand that complicated stuff. The only thing my brain remembers is that all matter is composed of elementary particles and I somehow know that the word atom is based on the greek word atomos. The rest is just as clear as mud to me." Max commented dryly.

"And that's why you have me. Professor Graham is ready to expand your fields of knowledge and to broaden your horizon." He gave her a playful wink and immediately straightened up in his seat the second Mrs. Grant crossed the threshold of her class.

Everyone knew that Warren was her favorite and most promising science student and he seemed to care a great deal to stay on her good side.

The older teacher strode towards her desk to stand in front of it and clasped her hands in her lap, giving all her students an expectant look. "Good morning my fellow science enthusiasts. I see everyone is here so let us begin. Today we'll continue where we left off and that was quantum mechanics. I hope you all remember the quantum field theory which describes nature at the smallest scales of energy levels of atoms and subatomic particles. If not, you should read about it in your text books because I can already promise you it'll encompass a huge part in your upcoming test next week."

A collective groan filled the classroom and Max just sighed at that. She had totally forgotten that damn test and it was just another point on her growing to-do-list. Her highest priority was still the _Everyday Heroes_ contest. If she could enter a photograph and actually win this competition, it might help her a lot as starting point of her career as photographer. At least a success there would be more beneficial to her than that annoying science test.

Yes, Mrs. Grant was a really cool teacher and she would have loved to engage more in her class. Yet what can you do if you absolutely suck at anything that had to do with science? So she chose to leave that stuff to the real science buffs like Warren or Brooke.

Furthermore this was also her perfect excuse to allow herself to space out again. The young woman moved forward, putting her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand while her gaze shifted towards the freshwater aquarium. Her eyes followed the bright colored guppies, cory catfishes and mollies peacefully swimming around in small groups inside the fish tank. Some fishes seemed eye catching and energetic while others barely moved from their spot. Max thought if she'd be a fish herself, she would definitely belong to the latter group and sighed at that. Mrs. Grant's voice seemed to fade into the distance as her thoughts slowly began to drift off.

' _What the heck am I doing here?'_ She wondered and lowered her eyes. ' _I shouldn't be here. Who knows what that crazy psycho is up to. I should go and warn Chloe as soon as I can_.'

Her thoughts were interrupted when Warren nudged her with an elbow. He held a handwritten note in front of her eyes, reading _Shuttle Tydirium to Max. Helloooooo? Are you there? Please respond or we won't deactivate the deflector shield :)_

Max turned to him, raising her eyebrows. "Huh?"

Her friend leaned in closer and whispered in an excited tone. "Yo, yo, Captain Max Solo. Did you know? There's this drive-in in Newberg and they're having a 70s Planet of the Apes marathon. Come on, this is great. Let's ' _go ape_ ' together."

"Uh, I dunno, if I can and..." She mumbled in return, trying to evade his suggestion.

"Oh, please. Don't leave me hanging here, Mad Max. Didn't you say you need a break from all that silly Blackwell drama? Let's do this. I promise it'll be fun." Warren went on, not seeming to give up and looking at her with his big puppy eyes again.

 _'I've seen the way he looks at you. It's fairly obvious that this boy is_ _in love_ _with you._ ' Mark's words echoed in her mind and Max knew she couldn't leave it like that. Yes, Warren was a great guy and they had a lot in common but that was all. If she really thought about their friendship she realized he was more like a brother to her. A supercool nerd brother, sure, but nothing more.

Max sighed. "I'm sorry, Warren. My best friend is in the hospital and I'm really not in the mood right now to go ape. You should ask Brooke. I'm sure she'd love to go with you."

"But I don't want Brooke. I _want you_." Warren made clear and it became fairly obvious that he wouldn't give up to convince her.

' _It'll only be more painful if you leave him in uncertainty like that_.' Again her teacher's words resounded in her mind, making it perfectly clear what she had to do now.

' _Shit! I feel like a total dick but it can't go on like this. I already have a boyfriend and he should know that. Warren deserves to know the truth_. _Doesn't he?_ ' Max thought and gulped nervously. Although the brown-haired girl felt extremely miserable she was aware that there was no other way to handle this shitty situation.

Her voice tried to stay firm as she began to explain. "I can't go on a date with you. I'm sorry. You see, I really like you... as _a good friend._ But to be honest with you, I already have someone in my life. And he'd be really jealous if we'd go to the the drive-in together."

Warren's expression darkened and he asked seemingly pissed. "Who is it? Don't tell me it's that _arrogant snob_ Evan Harris. No wait, you know what? I don't wanna know who your Mr. Lover Lover is."

This was tough to watch. Something broke inside of him as if she had crushed all his hopes from one second to the other. Seeing her buddy hurting like this made her feel incredibly bad. That was the reason why she had never said anything. She didn't want to upset him like this. Not Chloe. Not him nor anybody else.

His shoulders drooped and his brown eyes cast down in a depressed gaze. It seemed his whole world had been torn apart by her and all that was left now was anger and bitterness.

"Warren, I..." Her voice sounded brittle, weak. Max wanted to say something, anything to make it better but Mrs. Grant approached them and stared at her with a displeased expression on her face.

"I suggest you two love birds should go outside if you don't have any interest in participating in my class today." Mrs. Grant told them, putting her hands on her hips and a look of disapproval glinting in her black eyes.

Quiet giggles pervaded the room now and from the corner of her eye Max spotted an infuriated Brooke who glared daggers at both of them.

' _Great, guess Brooke hates me too now._ ' She thought, not looking forward to more drama at Blackhell Academy.

"We're sorry, Mrs. Grant. We won't do it again." Max quickly apologized and saw the black-haired teacher shooting her a strict look in return.

"I hope so, Max. Let's continue our lesson by opening our textbooks to read pages eighty to eighty-seven."

An uncomfortable silence had settled between Warren and her for the remainder of the lesson. It was as if a sudden chill permeated the tiny space between them. Max didn't know what to say and he looked as if there were no more words left to say anyway. The hurt and disappointment was still too fresh and it would probably take some time till they could go back to the way things were before.

"Just... leave me alone." Warren mumbled through clenched teeth, his whole body shifting away from her as if he couldn't stand to look at her.

Tears began to rush towards her eyes and Max just felt awful, terrible. Warren's words had sharp edges and had cut deep into her heart. Had she lost her best friend here at Blackwell today? Did she even have to turn him down like that? Was there no other way? Max tried to stomach the sickening pain that she had caused, a sinking feeling in her heart.

' _Well, that went well, Heartbreak Max. What's next? Will you try to stop Nathan and hurt yourself with your own taser?_ ' Max asked herself in her thoughts and couldn't wait to get out of this damn science room. All she wanted was to crawl into a puny hole now. A way to escape from this awkward situation.

That was why the loud ringing sound of the bell almost felt liberating to her. All students shuffled away, rushing to the door, hurrying to get to their next classes. Without uttering another word Max just got up from her chair and hastily gathered her things. Warren was still ignoring her, acting as though she didn't exist anymore and she understood there was nothing she could do now. Maybe time could heal those wounds. Or hopefully Warren would finally find the right girlfriend who would love him the same way, who would reciprocate his feelings. It just wasn't her. Unfortunately her heart already belonged to someone else. To a certain art teacher.

* * *

After arriving at Blackwell Academy Mark Jefferson sped through the long hallways with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder and holding a thick, black folder filled with lesson plans in one hand and a big mug of coffee in the other. His destination was his own office and he didn't let anyone distract him.

Eager students such as Victoria Chase tried to stop him for a meaningless little chit chat at the school's entrance gates but he brushed her off rather abruptly, not even sparing her one last glance as he left her. All his thoughts were centered on his student Max. He had to find her and needed to talk to her as soon as possible. Doubts still lingered in his mind. Had it been too early to reveal himself to her in such manner? Had she been ready yet to delve into his darkness, to succumb to it like her teacher before her? Wouldn't it have been better to ease her in very slowly, to guide her very carefully into these unknown waters? Maybe this had been all too much for her, maybe he had pushed too much on her way too quickly without considering what it might do to her. How it might inevitably change her. Or how his approach might put a strain on their still young relationship.

Another pair of female students attempted to catch his attention by asking him questions about the _Everyday Heroes Contest_ regulations. Once again Mark shook his head in apology and quickly paced past them, excusing himself and promising to help another time.

Just as the photography teacher turned the next corner he suddenly caught a glimpse of her. His muse. His inspiration. Time seemed to move by very slowly as his intent eyes absorbed her image, admiring her in that brief, fleeting moment. Only she could satisfy his hunger, his obsession. It was as if he could find nourishment in the very sight of her. So beautiful, pure, vibrant and captivating.

Her presence alone shone so brightly like a sunbeam gleaming through a break in the clouds. But it wasn't the physical beauty that attracted him. If he would grow blind he would still desire Maxine. Her physical beauty was nothing but an outlet for the beauty which blossomed within her.

It was her passion, her innocence, her essence, her soul that lured him to her. What he saw in her was a living mirror of himself in the distant past. Max embodied the light side of him. A strong light that his darkness would never be able to reclaim again. She was the yang to his yin, the beauty to his beast, the angel to his devil, the white to his black, the light to his shadow, the virtue to his sins. Only she completed him, made him whole again. His brown eyes trailed over hers. They were like jewels of the purest blue. In that one instant he felt as if something vital had been missing from his world and now it was within his grasp once more.

A feeling of complete exaltation filled his body, causing every cell to throb inside of him. This was the reason he needed his muse. No matter how many stars glittered in the night sky, there was no reason for any of them to shine without something to reflect them.

' _I need you in my life, Max. Just as much as you need me_.' He mused to himself.

They stared at each other in silence, the sheer intensity of his gaze made it hard for her to breathe. Max felt a wave of heat climb into her face and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest like a little bird rattling in its cage, desperate for an escape. His presence was so strong and overwhelming, making the temperature skyrocket inside her body.

A smirk crept from the corner of his lips and spread the entirety of his face as he watched her cheeks flush bright red. Although his soul hungered after her Mark Jefferson was very careful not to let it show. He couldn't allow his emotions to blind him and to let them overcome his common sense. The consequences would be devastating, especially here and now. The chief of security at Blackwell, Mr. David Madsen was just standing a few meters away from them. Madsen's dark eyes turned to slits and the muscles in his jaw tightened visibly, observing them as though they were possible suspects in an ongoing investigation.

' _There he goes again. That annoying bloodhound looks at us like potential criminals. As if that idiot thinks he's on to something here. I should be more careful_. _Who knows what he's up to..._ ' Mark thought and closed the remaining distance between them. His shadow fell over her whole body and he savored the fruity aroma emanating from her soft skin. After a span of a breath he greeted her, a smile pulling at his lips as he continued to gaze at her. "Hey, Max. Didn't mean to scare you. Everything alright?"

He enjoyed the way her cheeks darkened in color even further. Her sudden shyness was endearing.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Jefferson." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously and offered him a meek smile.

Mark inched closer and studied her soft face, trying to catch every detail. Usually there was a sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes, rich with curiosity and life. But now she seemed worried, distracted even. He had never seen her looking so porcelain white as she did now, nor had he ever seen such sadness in her face.

His head cocked to the side just slightly and a shadow passed over his features before he inquired. "You seem troubled. Is everything okay?"

Max let her gaze slide away to evade his scrutinizing eyes. There was no point in hiding the truth. Mark knew her all too well by now and there was no way she could avoid his powers of observation. She instinctively bit down on her bottom lip and her smile seemed strained as she tried to phrase her answer. "I, uh, don't seem to catch a break and well, I have a lot on my mind lately. With Nathan Prescott and um, you know, everything that had happened."

The young student wrapped her arms around herself as though for comfort. Mark nodded at that, his calm voice sounding even softer now as he offered. "I understand, Max. Maybe it might help to _talk about it_? As you know there are counselors available. And I also have an open ear for all of my students here at Blackwell."

He spoke a little louder than necessary, being aware that Madsen was still listening to everything they said. His intention was to get Max to a place where they could talk in private, without that bothersome security guard eavesdropping on them.

Max seemed to ponder his proposal for a moment. A part of her wanted to get to Chloe now and she knew that stopping Nathan would become a race against time. Each passing second increased her fear of being too late. On the other hand she longed to be with Mark now. She needed _this_ more than ever. To hear his voice, to have his reassurance, to be save in his embrace and to feel his soothing touch. This man had become her lighthouse in dark, uncertain times.

Looking warily over his shoulder she could glimpse other students strut down the hall and pouring into their classrooms. Out of habit she scratched the back of her neck and finally conceded. "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. I think having someone to talk to is just what I need right now."

He waited a few seconds, taking a moment to drink in the sweet cadence of her voice. There was a flicker in his eyes as he suggested in a voice as smooth as honey. "No problem, there's still some time before the next period begins. Come, let's go to my office." He gave her a slight nod and gestured with his hand to follow him.

* * *

Mark Jefferson closed the door behind them with a decisive click and sauntered over to his desk, placing his folder on the wooden surface. His index finger tapped on top of the table while he lifted the warm cup to his lips, letting the pleasing aroma tickle his nostrils and taking a few sips of his dark roast coffee. The flavor of this colombian coffee was exceptional in his eyes. A balanced taste with a smooth finish which didn't overload your palette. For a moment he lowered his gaze and compared the black of his coffee with the white of its porcelain vessel. Such an intriguing contrast.

Gentle sunlight of autumn enfolded both of them now, its light adding a film of gold to his office.

The reflection of the sun danced in his brown eyes as he regarded her thoughtfully, the soft expression of his features shifting, like an ocean stirring right before a storm.

His eyes seemed to burn. It was a look that scorched her skin right down to the tips of her toes. Max swallowed, suppressing a shudder. There was a sudden coldness in the air, as if the temperature of the room had dropped several degrees from one second to the other. Her nervousness was apparent in her wide eyes which shimmered blue and orange in the sun as she assured him. "I've promised to keep your secret. Remember?"

Brown eyes bored into hers. He was stone quiet and deadly calm, his whole face set in the hardest expression she had ever seen on him. "Have you? Then answer me _this_ , why do you look so troubled? What happened? And don't even think about lying to me, Max Caulfield. I would _know_."

She could feel those words turning into a slow drip of cold fear percolating through every cell of her body. Like an icy, invisible hand running its fingers up and down her neck and spine. Goose-flesh broke out and blood was rushing in her ears, her own heartbeat too loud and too fast. This had been the first time where Mark had truly scared her. His brown eyes darkened like storm clouds, a hint of a threat resonating in his soft voice.

She didn't realize how tense her voice sounded when she replied. "It's not what you think it is. This isn't about you, it's _about Warren_."

He glanced at her with one arched eyebrow, confusion audible in his voice now as he pressed on. " _Warren_? Warren Graham? What does he have to do with _this_?"

The young woman hesitated for a moment. Her head swam and she wet her lips nervously, her voice quavering as she explained. "He asked me to go out with him, to watch a movie marathon together at a drive-in in Newberg. And I remembered what you told me... that I shouldn't leave him in uncertainty like that and...", she swallowed hard and continued, "I don't know if I made the right choice today but I followed your advice. Needless to say, it didn't go so well. I think he hates me now."

The intense, searing look softened into a thoughtful one. The older man couldn't deny that he had regarded the Graham boy as a possible threat, yes, an obstacle even. Another rival who could steal his muse's heart. Jealousy was such an irritating feeling. Max was his. She belonged to him and no one else. Therefore the kid was nothing but a thorn in his side.

Yes, there were times when he had observed the two from a distance, watched them laughing and having fun together. It was unnerving him, annoying him and making it extremely difficult to remain calm. For a man like him who preferred to keep his cool, the brat unintentionally provoked his anger more and more frequently. His composure had been dwindling and he had felt his self-control slipping. His nerves had been like a short circuit, ready to start a fire within seconds. The teenage boy should be relieved that it never went that far.

Her eyes shifted to the side and became glazed with a layer of tears and she swallowed hard. "Maybe I lost the only real friend I had here at Blackwell and it makes me feel really shitty. Every time I keep hurting everyone and it sucks. I'm the worst."

The brown depths of his eyes softened to a degree and he drew closer, extending his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. The tender tone of his voice washed over her like a warm breeze as he encouraged her. "It'll be okay. You've made the right decision. Give your friend time and space and he'll realize how much you still mean to him."

"Are you sure?" Max inquired, pressing her lips together and her jaw tight. The empty place where their friendship had once been ached like an open wound in her heart.

He waited a beat, then added in a gentle tone. "One hundred percent sure. You two are friends, no matter what. Right now your friendship is put to the test. You struggle, you feel pain and there comes a time when you try to distance yourself to stop the hurting. In the end a true friend will accept who you are, he will forgive you. Trust me, your strong friendship will endure this difficult time."

Max drew a deep breath. Her brain felt dulled, with doubts, with worry and most importantly lack of sleep. Her throat tightened when she held his gaze. "Did you really think I would _betray_ your trust? Why did you _doubt me_?"

His brown eyes flickered over her face. "Max, believe me. I _want_ to trust you. You've accepted my true self, who I truly am. I've _changed_. And it's all _because of you_. But you must also realize by now that I'm a very cautious man and that I have to keep in mind what's at stake here..."

There was a slight pause and his voice became soft and earnest. "I can't _lose you_. The sheer thought alone is unbearable to me. As I've already told you countless times, I'm a flawed person. Far from perfect."

Her face went hard and she felt nausea pit the bottom of her stomach as she turned an accusing blue stare on him. "If I'd decide to go to the police _now_ , would you...", her throat constricted and she went on, a tremor in her voice now, "Would you _kill me_?"

Mark took a deep, shuddering breath and shook his head, reaching up and gliding his hand tenderly across her cheek. " _Never_. I'd never hurt or kill the one I _love_. The world is a cold, cruel place and having you in it makes it brighter in my eyes."

His words were what she needed to hear and this look in his brown eyes undid her completely. How could she ever be angry at him if he looked at her _like that_? Like she really meant the world to him.

And with that he took another step towards her, leaving a hint of his sandalwood cologne in the air. Her teacher was so close that both found themselves with barely an inch of space between them. His body heat was already radiating towards her. He reached out and delicately traced a line from the top of her cheek down to her chin, then his fingers moved behind her head, tangling in her short hair and his brown eyes shining at her. Looking like a painter in deep concentration, tending to his piece of artistry.

Max felt nauseous at the undeniable, unbearable and underlying sexual tension between them. It was as if she could see herself in the lens of his mind. A young woman he had grown to admire and who he loved. A muse unlike any other who had become the fuel of his passion... his obsession.

The edge of his lips began to curl into a smile and she heard him draw a deep breath. Despite the appearance of maintaining a certain control over himself she could see a spark of lust in his eyes, as if a deeper well of passion lurked just beneath the surface.

Mark was mesmerized by this sight. His attentive eyes were working like a camera, capturing her beauty to perfection against the backdrop of the autumn sun. Her brown hair glowed in the sunlight. The golden rays stretched like long fingers across her slender body, illuminating her in bright shades of yellow and orange. To him Maxine was at her most beautiful when she looked at him like that. When her light clear eyes were like blue paint swirling through bright water.

Max held her breath, seeing his lips descending on her neck. She felt her pulse getting faster, a feeling like wings spreading and taking vigorous flight in her heart. Every nerve ending was crackling as his lips brushed down the length of her neck, over the hollow of her neck and shoulder. Heat was rising up, engulfing her cheeks and all she could do was mumble his name in return.

Max's body trembled, the sensation of his kisses on her skin felt like tiny sparks, sending a rush of heat through her entire body. Each kiss only seemed to raise the temperature between them until she felt as if she could melt right there in his arms. His warm hand traced the contours of her back, his fingertips leaving tiny goosebumps in their wake. She could hear him give a low murmur which sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a low hum.

He leaned forward and they were cheek to cheek now. His breath whispered along the delicate curve of her ear. "Max, you've become the goddess of my heart's temple. And no matter what happens, that _will never change_."

She turned her head to gaze up at him. As his index finger stroked her cheek, she caught sight of her own reflection in the deep brown, almost black depths of his eyes.

Seeing herself there brought a smile to her lips. Max knew she was in his heart, just as he was in hers. "And my heart belongs to you," she breathed, "it always has, it always will."

Her statement caused his finger to still as Mark searched her eyes. Blue eyes were staring back at him, open and unguarded. He discerned her words to be true. "And mine is forever yours," he replied in a thick, deep voice and placed the palm of his hand on her chest, the mere gesture like an act of reverence and ownership twisted together.

Max couldn't stand the tension any longer and succumbed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. As always she found herself entangled with this man. Every time they met, every time they spoke, every time they looked into each other's eyes, the threads that bound them became stronger, tighter. All she could think of was being together with him like this, to take in every precious second and storing it in her memory.

Through half-lidded eyes, she could see his intense gaze, framing her how he viewed her through the lens of his mind. With practiced expertise, his hands sneaked with purpose under her t-shirt, his deft fingers leaving a scorching trail as he cherished every inch of her skin in an unhurried manner, sliding down to the curve of her lower back.

Her skin burned under his affections. Her lips tingled with the passion of their kiss, her body completely weak at his touch. Their lips caressed each other in synchronicity, never parting as if this kiss could be their last. His hands were on her waist now and pulled her hard against him, voraciously, possessively and full of hunger. With lips parted she moaned into his mouth as his intimate exploration grew fiercer. She felt like a bundle of molten heat beneath him, exposed and greedily demanding more. Her trembling hand touched his cheek, then her fingers moved farther, winding tightly through his dark brown hair.

As the seconds ticked by her breathing grew more and more labored, all her senses were scattered in disarray. Max reveled under her teacher's touch, her hands clinging to his back now in an effort to keep herself from falling. Outside, the students talked and laughed but she could no longer hear them. She also no longer noticed his office room bathed in warm, bright sunlight. All she was aware of was the closeness of his body and his lips on hers. How the scruff of his beard lightly tickled her skin. How his hot tongue swept inside her mouth and danced around hers, so deliberate and slow, being almost as excruciating as a sweet and persistent torture. Some parts of her body had taken on a rather liquid quality now, her thoughts spiraling out of control with fevered passion. In her ears she only heard the sounds they made together, her own weak voice uttering his name.

Although fervor consumed her mind a part of her wondered how others might react when they would learn about their secret love. Especially Chloe flashed through her thoughts now. All her worries came back to her and suddenly, her blue eyes snapped into focus with a pant for air that caused Mark to draw back. His face, which until a moment ago had been alight with excitement and insatiable hunger, quelled by the thought of devouring each other, was now contorted in concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, running the pad of his thumb gently over her bottom lip.

Max stared right past him, her blue eyes wide with fear as she saw the dying smile of her best friend Chloe haunting her mind. Quickly, she shook her head to get that unwanted picture out of her head, inwardly reprimanding herself for letting her mind wander to such a grim place.

His hand was placed on her shoulder and Max blinked a few times, reminding herself where she was, slowly coming back to reality. When she looked up she could see his worry all over his face.

"Max? Talk to me. What is it?" He tried again, his apprehension evident in his soft voice.

"I'm okay, really. It was nothing." His young student assured him, forcing a faint smile.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up, prompting her to look into his eyes. His voice dropped an octave and he gave her a serious look. "You're clearly not okay and I wish you would be more forthcoming with me. If something troubles you, please tell me. I only want to help you."

The sudden shift in his tone made her blush. She cleared her throat and finally admitted. "I'm sorry. It's just that my stupid mind wandered to a place where it doesn't belong."

Her eyes glistened with tears that refused to recede and she stammered now. "I-I saw my best friend Chloe there. She-she was in pain... dying."

" _Dying?_ " Mark repeated slowly and some unidentifiable emotion scoured into the lines of his face.

Just saying it brought that unbidden image back to the surface of her mind. Max swallowed hard and pursed her lips. "I think I'm just worried. About Chloe... and her close relationship with Nathan. After everything you told me I can't stop thinking about it. I don't know what..."

Mark placed his index finger on her lips and hushed her. "Shh, quiet, Max. Trust me, I got this. I promise you Nathan won't lay a finger on her. You have my word."

His words didn't have the desired effect. On the contrary, she was still agitated and felt a lump in her stomach. That gruesome image of her friend was still too fresh. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes once more and kept shaking her head. "I want to believe you. Yet just look what happened to Rachel Amber. She's dead now and _even you_ couldn't prevent it. I don't know but I can't just stay here and do nothing. I have to do _something_."

' _That's it. I need to act instead of reacting. This is my last chance to do something right for Chloe._ ' Max thought and hoped, she could earn Chloe's trust back and salvage what remained of the broken pieces of their friendship.

Mark cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed a few tear drops away with his thumb. "I understand your fears but do you really think you can prevail against Nathan? Don't forget he's mentally ill and also very unstable. You shouldn't underestimate him."

"I'm _not_ underestimating him. I know what I'm up against." Max assured him, her voice sounding surprisingly stronger and more firm now.

The older photography teacher was taken aback by her resolve. A swell of pride filled him as he admired that quiet look of determination on her face.

His brown eyes suddenly glimmered with intensity as he regarded her, seeing her in a new light. "I see a darkness inside you which you're finally starting to embrace, Max. It seems you needed to lose the softness to find the steel within yourself."

Max felt her face glow hotter and she stiffened visibly under his cool assessing gaze. "I don't want to feel helpless anymore, or afraid. Your _lesson..._ _That one session_ was what gave me that feeling of control back."

Mark remembered the crucial moment where his Maxine had made her choice to capture an unconscious Nathan Prescott. A moment in which she had decided to fully, completely, unequivocally follow this dark path he had offered to her. Now the fruit was ripe for the taking, her future bright and promising with endless possibilities.

He looked deep into her eyes and took her hand in his, his fingers interlocking with hers as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, the rich timbre of his voice resonating through her body. "Ah, _this session_. It was a therapeutic one, wasn't it?"

There it was again, this knowing smirk, as if he could read her mind like an open book. Max nodded and held his gaze. "It _changed_ me somehow."

He winked at her. "Well, I hope this experience will also aid you to handle your insecurity and your self-doubts. I can see you burning with potential and you possess that raw, natural talent to capture the moment. Your photography is a gift and you should never be afraid to use it. Speaking of photography, I still expect your entry for the contest."

She gave an uncomfortable laugh and assured him. "I'm on it, I swear. It's just... I don't want to rush it and submit something I'm not really content with."

It seemed he had resumed the role of her teacher again, speaking in a strict tone. "I understand, Max. You can't rush perfection. Regrettably, life won't wait for you to play catch-up. Sometimes you can't leave it to chance. You have to go out there and frame the world as you envision it in your mind, as you see it through your shutter lens. Always remember, photography is more than taking a shot. It's about capturing a specific moment frozen in time. A single picture can tell us so much more than a thousand words, it can tell us a story and it can invoke emotion, thus making a photo truly shine."

Max averted her eyes and murmured. "I know I must look like a total loser to you now. Because I can't seem to fulfill your expectations."

To her surprise Mark let out a soft chuckle. "Don't be so hard on yourself, okay? Honestly, you've already exceeded my expectations so far. I couldn't have asked for more, really. But if you'd actually submit a photo for the contest, I'm fairly certain your work will be among the best entries. And seeing you win this competition would be the final icing on the cake. Don't you agree?"

Heat rose within her once again and Max could feel the flush mount in her cheeks as she tried to process what he had just told her. Mark Jefferson believed she could win this damn contest? Hearing him say this really took her by surprise. ' _Wowsers. Someone pinch me, please. I think I'm having a crazy daydream again_.'

"I-I don't know what to say." Max mumbled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Hmm, speaking of the contest, I think I have something for you." His lips resolved into another smirk and Mark reached inside the inner pocket of his black suit jacket. "I had initially planned to give you this after the announcement of the contest's winner. But it seems you might really need it now."

Her eyes went wide when he carefully pulled out a sterling silver necklace with a small cute camera pendant delicately attached to an adjustable chain. The sculptured design was adorned with a single blue crystal which represented the camera lens. The overall form looked detailed and also had a timeless appeal. "My parents gave me this gift after I graduated the American Academy of Art in Chicago. It's a good luck charm and I hope it'll aid you in your quest to make your vision become reality."

"Mark, this is... I can't accept this. It's too valuable." Max stammered breathlessly and took a step back, thinking this gift was way too precious to give it away. His family entrusted it to him a long time ago and it surely meant a lot to him. Her teacher most probably had lots of personal and fond memories connected to this jewelry piece.

Amusement lingered in his eyes and he laughed again, a far too pleasing sound. "Max, as you know there are planned shots and lucky shots. You're a photographer who clearly belongs to the latter category. You strive to shoot candid masterpieces and for that you not only need an alert eye. No, you also require an ability to recognize a situation immediately, having your polaroid camera ready at all times to take things as they occur. This product of good fortune is difficult to achieve. That's why I believe you might need this luck charm more than me. So please, accept my gift and show me that splendid picture which will surely emerge." And after saying these words he came around behind her, his warm hand brushing her short hair aside in order to refasten the clasp of the necklace.

The metal felt cold on her skin and she instinctively shivered slightly. Yet that chill was soon replaced by warmth as he pressed a soft, sensual kiss on her neck. His lips lingered there for a long moment and she could hear him inhale her scent, breathing it in deep.

"Christ, you smell intoxicating, Maxine. A fruity fragrance with crisp scents of, hmm... I detect strawberry, jasmine, lemon, peach and what is this? Ah, vanilla base notes. Truly, a compelling composition." Mark purred and once again she could feel him smile against her skin. His words alone and the way he spoke them so tenderly were enough to turn her insides to liquid fire.

"It's-It's _Max_ , never Maxine." She corrected him, holding her breath and her heart hammering so strong in her chest as she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her skin.

"Forgive me, Max. Though I'll never understand why you don't like your name. It's elegant, refined, unique, strong and yet feminine. _Maxine_... from the greek feminine form _Maxena_ , the noble or the greatest. Or the hebrew _Macsima_ , the enchanted." Slowly, Mark accentuated every syllable as though he was tasting her name and all its other variations on his tongue.

There had been times where Max had hated and despised her own name every single day. In kindergarten bullies had called her Maxine Vaccine or even worse, Maxi Pad. So she had quickly insisted to be addressed as Max only, her nickname. This had helped a lot to stop the bullying for a while. Although now that she was older she also had to admit the harassment never really ended. Snobs like Victoria Chase found other ways to mock her. Pixie hipster, selfie bitch, crappy artist, paparazzi whore or emo queen. The long list went on and on.

"I think I'm used to Max. But I wouldn't mind if you... if you call me _Maxine_ sometimes." She proposed shyly, feeling her own ears burning up from sudden heat.

His head cocked to the right just slightly and his lips curved upward into an enigmatic smile. "Then I shall gladly take you up on that offer... _Maxine_."

They stood there for a long moment, staring deep into each other's eyes for what felt like forever. As if this was one of the last quiet moments they shared together. The peaceful silence before the approaching storm.

A shadow passed across his face as an unbidden thought resurfaced in his mind. ' _How would it change me if I ever lost you, Maxine? In a world without you I'd be cold. Only you make my world warmer, brighter_.' His muse was able to leave a feeling of lightness and cheer in the air behind her, like when a swallow soared through the autumn sky. The beautiful gleam of her endearing smile was almost blinding.

Mark Jefferson finally fully understood that there was something in the world more precious to him than his need to capture innocence. He had found what he had been looking for his entire life without even realizing it. Max had become his whole world and he couldn't imagine a life without her. He wanted to have it all and knew he could lose it all too. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly drove those ominous and unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

The line of one deep in thought danced on the surface of his brown eyes as he gave her a serious look, inquiring. "Are you still sure you want to do this? To stand between your friend and Nathan?"

Max's chin rose defiantly, her eyes flashing with no trace of fear. "I am. I have to do this. Not only for me but also for Chloe."

He couldn't help but admire her courage and gentled his tone. "I understand. However I must warn you to be careful around here. Not to scare you."

"I won't do anything reckless, promise." She swore with a confident voice, her fine azure eyes growing steely and glittering like ice.

The school bell rang and both straightened up, as if they suddenly became aware of their surroundings and that their short time together was over now.

"Take care and let me know if you need anything, okay?" Mark whispered and gave her hand a light squeeze.

Max nodded in return, a smile on her lips as she replied. "I will. Thanks, Mark."

* * *

A symphony borne to her ears on the cool autumn wind when Max stepped outside into a rich shower of sunlight. She could hear the soft splash of the fountain, the many murmurs of different student voices, the cheerful chirping of birds and the whistling of the breeze.

If she wouldn't feel so tense, she would've sat down at the fountain or at a tree to chill a bit. But unfortunately that wasn't an option right now. Time was of the essence and all her thoughts were only revolving around her best friend Chloe, how to reach her fast and how to get her away from Nathan's clutches.

After running to the bicycle parking area she spotted her red Pinarello road racer and quickly approached it. When Max began to move it out of the bike holder, she noticed something strange. The cycle tires didn't turn as easily as they should. Going into a squat position a quick glance confirmed her hunch. Someone had pierced both of her tires and all the air had already been released. Looking closer she discovered a yellow note attached to her bicycle frame. With a frown on her face she read the text written in red, angry capital letters.

' _WE TOLD YOU TO LEAVE NATHAN ALONE!_ _THIS IS OUR LAST WARNING, SELFIE HO!_ ' Max balled her fists and felt anger overwhelm her. A wonderful thought immediately entered her mind. ' _WTF? You gotta be kidding me! I swear_ _I'll pay Victoria a visit and shock her bony ass with my taser_.'

The idea was very tempting and for a few seconds she actually considered it, wanting to get some sort of revenge. Yet the young student knew it wasn't right. It would only get her into major trouble and that was the last thing she needed right now.

Also who would want to sink so low, down to Victoria's level? ' _You're better than this, Super Max._ ' She reminded herself and let out a sigh. One day Victoria would surely get what was coming to her. Hopefully that day would arrive rather sooner than later. But it didn't matter. Victoria Chase was an insignificant threat compared to her best buddy Nathan.

And her entire focus had to be on solving the problem at hand. Max had to do whatever it took to get back to Chloe and she had set her heart on doing just that. Was there another way to the hospital? It was too far away to walk there on foot and waiting for the next bus would take too long either. The next one was scheduled to leave for the city in about an hour at the earliest. Great! Now she had to get back to her dorm room where she kept a pair of replacement tires under her bed. More time she was forced to waste to return to Chloe.

Max grimaced as she headed towards the dormitory, tightening her grip around the strap of her shoulder bag. ' _Dammit! I really have a bad feeling about this. God, I hope I'm wrong_.'

* * *

Nathan Prescott stood in front of the door which led to the photography classroom. This was it. The moment had come to face his mentor. He felt like a total wreck again. His knees were uncontrollably shaking and his palms were cold and sweaty as he just paused there, gathering his composure. He had been so nervous to come here that he even visited his best friend Victoria this morning to get a feeling of normalcy back.

Sadly, it didn't work out. Vic just freaked out when he started to babble like a hysterical fool. First, she had wanted to go over the preparations for the upcoming Vortex Club party. The only thing he remembered from that trivial small talk was her asking him about contacting DJ Doom. Somehow it had spiraled out of control. His fears had come to the surface and his best friend had just stared at him with a shocked expression on her face. As if she didn't know how to respond to this other side of him. Their talk ended with Vic urging him to go see his psychiatrist. A stupid suggestion which had only angered him further. No one understood him. No one.

' _What the fuck ever!_ ' Nathan thought and tried to calm his nerves, rubbing his temples with his cold fingers. ' _It's cool, Nate. Don't stress! You're okay, bro. Just count to three..._ ' With that he took out three of his diazepam pills from his red jacket pocket and swallowed them all at once.

Closing his eyes he murmured to himself. "Fucking _three_."

After opening them again the Prescott boy held his breath and then let it out in a sharp hiss when his hand closed around the metal door knob.

With an uneasy feeling in his gut he finally entered the classroom which was still devoid of any students. Nathan had memorized his mentor's routine to arrive earlier in class to prepare his own lessons. The teenager slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind him, carefully taking a few steps towards the other man.

Their last meeting here was still fresh in his mind. Especially the unpleasant outcome which had ended with him being threatened by Mark with his own gun pointing at his temple. Definitely not a pleasant experience he wanted to relive again.

"Hey, Mark. Do you have a minute?" He asked, already sinking onto the nearest chair and looking as miserable as he felt. His red cardigan and jacket seemed wrinkled from his time crashing at Hayden's place. Also his black pants had seen better days and really needed to be washed.

His teacher on the other hand was the exact opposite. He sat at his desk and looked up from his notes. There it was again. That friendly, yet well calculated smile which radiated so much warmth, capable of melting his ice mountains of problems into nothingness. As always his appearance was flawless, impeccable and his fashion style also matched his personality. Cool, clean and sharp. Nathan knew how much Mark cared about first impressions and the way he dressed was elegant, yet also casual.

Today was no exception. Mark wore his black blazer with a white shirt and dark blue jeans. The colors black and white didn't only dominate his photography, no, there were also reflected in his own wardrobe.

Mark tilted his head slightly and leaned back in his seat, his brown eyes searching his. "Nate. What can I do for you, son?" The voice sounded so sweet, like a delicious yet poisonous fruit.

His headache became worse. As if this unbearable ache was on a mission to split his head in two parts. Rubbing his scalp to ease the pain, the boy managed to hold his gaze.

Nathan's jaw clenched and his fingers clutched the table's edge next to him as if it were his lifebelt in a turbulent sea. "I've reached a decision. It wasn't easy and I wasn't so sure about it but I think, in the end, it's the only way out."

"And what kind of decision is this?" Mark wanted to know, his expression stern and cold now. A frightening sight. That this man could change his whole demeanor in a matter of seconds from gentle warmth to freezing coldness.

The atmosphere in the room darkened significantly. The blinds in the classroom were lowered to a sliver, only letting the slightest of sunlight in. Cold sweat dampened his clothes from the inside as tension and unease ate their way through Nathan's heart. His head started to feel very hot both inside his skull and out. The beating of his own heart was his only companion as he regarded him with a guarded expression. This time he couldn't wave his gun around and make demands. After that one incident Mark had forbidden him to carry his weapon at school again.

Fuck, he hated this feeling of being powerless and unprotected. His gun at least gave him an illusion of power, it had made him feel strong, invincible. Now he was just nothing but a dumb and helpless brat in front of his second father.

That was why he measured his next words very carefully, not wanting to anger his teacher. "You know I'll always be thankful for everything you did for me. That you believed in me, telling me I'm blessed with an eye for darkness and death. For having your support and aiding me to further my talent."

Mark offered him a reassuring smile. "Of course, Nate. How could I let such potential go to waste? Your fascination with death is interesting. You can express a strange beauty in morbidity. I _knew_ you were special. That there was something in your vision just waiting to be unleashed. All you needed was my guidance, my expertise. I want you to know how proud I am. It's such a shame Sean will never be able to recognize your genius."

Nathan didn't know if he mentioned Sean intentionally. Bringing up his fucking father was something that annoyed him greatly. He hated that because it always put him in a bad mood.

Yet, he held back his anger and ignored the mention of Sean Prescott, continuing. "Thank you for giving me that chance, man. I mean it. I'll never forget this."

The older man chuckled, amusement in his voice. "Right. I've invested a lot of time to give you what you want. I'm curious, though. What happened? Why don't you say what's going on?"

His soft voice dropped in pitch now, low and dangerous. "And don't tell me you want to quit our little arrangement here. We're in this together and we have to pull in the same direction or we'll fall apart."

Nathan's jaw clenched and he couldn't stop his damn hands from shaking. His fists were balled so tight that the nails of both hands already broke his flesh. Warm blood dripped from the fresh cuts but he didn't notice it. Everything was coming back to him. Incoherent thoughts, feelings of guilt. Darkness seemed to surround him, the ground beneath his feet seemed to vanish. For a moment he had that crazy feeling to lose his footing, to fall down into an all-consuming hole of darkness below him.

He felt claustrophobic now, like an animal trapped inside a small cage, muttering in his teacher's direction and avoiding his scrutinizing eyes. "I-I've made up my mind. I-I can't go on like this anymore. This guilt... Can't you see it's driving me crazy? I'm tired of all this shit! It's enough, okay? I'll tell Chloe what really happened to Rachel. _She_ deserves to know the truth."

Mark gave him that familiar smug smile, that look when he thought he was right. As if he wanted to lecture his son, his tone became harsh, almost condescending. "Oh, Nate. Come on, don't be stupid. Can't you see? That little punk girl is wrapping you around her little finger. Do you really believe she _loves you_? That she _cares about you_? I promise you the second she regains her memories she'll know what happened. That you almost _killed her_. And in that one moment her love _will turn_ to hatred."

Fuck, he could barely keep his concentration. Just attempting to think was like wading through thick syrup. His right leg jiggled violently up and down and his head was about to explode. The throbbing pain was unbearable. His breathing became irregular and the image of Chloe's unconscious expression hunted the dark corridors of his mind. He stammered, seemingly confused. "But I..."

The older man interrupted him and gave him a look that could have incinerated him right there on the spot. "And what do you hope to accomplish by confessing your crimes? Hm?" Mark asked with feigned gentleness and the light in his brown eyes was changing to that of fierce but suppressed emotion. It was a cold gaze that pierced him like a knife. "It's a foolish notion to believe that she'll fall into your arms and accept your misdeeds. There's no forgiveness for you, Nate. You've murdered her best friend, her lover. Nothing will ever change that fact. I advise you to accept what you've done and move on. There's no reason for you to dwell in the past."

Fuck it! The damn nausea didn't leave him and only became worse. His throat felt dry and he could feel himself falling apart by the sheer pressure. His troubled mind conjured images of Rachel Amber now. It was like watching a bizarre horror movie. Rachel staring at him with pleading eyes. Rachel dying, choking on her own vomit and blood. Rachel lying in a dark pit at the American Rust junkyard, her dead body covered in wilted leaves and dirt. Rachel haunting him in his dreams, with worms crawling out of her empty eye sockets.

His hands gripped his head now and he rocked back and forth in his seat like a child, snarling through gritted teeth. "I can't! My life's a fucking mess and you know nothing! What I have to go through! What I have to endure every single fucking day!You don't have my fucking nightmares and you don't have to suppress your memories with drugs and booze. You don't have to suffer this pain, wishing you're better off dead! Because you _are_ _perfection_ and because you have no regrets. You're like an emotionless robot. How the fuck would you know how I feel?"

"You're right. I'm not in your shoes." Mark admitted softly and seemed taken aback, maybe even a little hurt. "But I can help you. Let me ease your pain, okay?" He offered, his expression empathetic again.

While Nathan was at the brink of falling apart, his mentor remained the epitome of calmness. The one man he could rely on when he was about to drown in his own insanity. He was his anchor who kept his consciousness from vanishing amid the numbness. His source of peace, his pillar of strength, his savior who gave him support, who allowed him to rest his weary mind in his embrace. What would it feel like to be in his arms again? To feel comfort, to feel someone warm, to smell that rich cologne which always brought him back to reality, grounding him like whale songs?

His eyes were blurry and his father's soothing voice alone was enough to almost overpower his weak and dull spirit. Yet something, or rather someone kept him from surrendering completely. That one person was Chloe Price. She was the reason Nathan had decided to come here today in the first place and he didn't intend to abandon his plan.

It felt like waking up and coming back to his senses as he shook his head in response, whimpering. "You can't help me. No one can. That's why I have to do this." All this time he had been Mark's marionette, dancing to his flute. That was over now. Of course this was dangerous. It felt like balancing on a blade's edge, walking a thin line between life and death. The atmosphere in the classroom had clearly changed, an undercurrent of electricity in the air right before a thunderstorm.

Dead silence filled the room for a moment. His smile was replaced by a displeased frown and the eyes that were fixed on him gleamed with a particular cold light. With a lithe movement he rose to his feet in one flowing motion, his fingers gliding over his desk's edge as he slowly rounded the corner. His tone was that of a teacher sighing over an unworthy student. "You want to give it all up? _For what_? For a punk girl who doesn't even love you?"

Nathan flinched just from the tone of his mentor's voice. The close proximity didn't make it any better. The older man towered over his crumbled form, staring down at him, looking equal parts annoyed and angry.

Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. An obvious sign of fear, yet he tried his best not to let it show. Instead he felt rather bold now. ' _You're a fucking Prescott, bro! You don't need Mark's approval. I can do the fuck I want! No one tells me what to do! Nobody!_ ' He reminded himself and held his head high, his tone dripping with arrogance. "I don't care what you think and I don't need your permission either. I'm a Prescott, for fuck's sake! It's _my family_ who owns this shithole and it was _my father_ who brought you to Arcadia Bay. Without me you wouldn't even have your precious dark room!"

The room was dim chilly and utterly silent. Only the muffled hum of the vending machines outside were audible now. Mark looked at him with hooded eyes, warning him. "Careful, Nate. You're walking on thin ice. I'm the only friend you have here at Blackwell. Remember that it was _me_ who saw your potential. I taught you everything I know and I even cleaned up every mess you left behind. I'm the only one you can trust. Not Sean, not your sister, not your friend Victoria or your Dr. Jacobi. Me!"

He struggled hard to suppress the nausea creeping up on him and snorted in return. "Oh, shut the hell up! Don't act as if you care! We both know it's just a fucking game to you. Father and son? Screw that! It's all a lie, isn't it?"

"It wasn't a lie. I meant every word I said." Mark made clear with a level voice and drew closer, his stride relaxed, yet measured. Although his teacher's brown eyes betrayed no sign of emotion Nathan was aware something was wrong. As if the air was gradually thinning between them.

Nathan felt his throat constrict as he watched Mark's impassive face. All his senses were screaming at him to run away but fear held him there, like prey frozen in place in front of the hunter. The only drug that coursed through his veins now was adrenaline.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this." Mark said with a subtle change of tone and Nathan felt a sudden jolt run through his body. There was a dark gleam in his brown eyes that rendered him speechless.

This was it. The moment he had to attack. Without thinking twice the Prescott boy lunged at him, despair contorting his facial features as he threw a punch at that immaculate face.

What a pointless endeavor it was. His mentor caught his fist with ease and used his hold on his hand to twist him around, slamming him brutally against the nearest wall. A sharp sense of pain flashed through his entire back.

Panic lanced through him. Everything was spinning. Mark's hand encircled his neck and his partner couldn't help but choke as his fingers harshly jammed into his throat. Frightened and barely able to breathe he clawed at his arm and wrung his fingers into his black sleeve, trying to wrench himself free and throwing all his weight into the effort. But to no avail. His teacher was much stronger than him.

Exhausted and out of breath he could only gasp as the other kept his neck secured with his fingers, having no intention of letting him leave again. His grip around his throat was so firm that he could even sense his own pulse in his arteries now, every time his heart pumped blood.

The muscles in his face were noticeably taut and Mark seemed to enjoy that as he observed him closely. Watching how the flow of blood to his face changed, how the color slowly drained from his face. His expression became rigid and his skin which was already pale to begin with went white as a sheet. This was what he longed to see. A moment of desperation unfolding right before his eyes.

"Mark... _please_." Nathan pressed out through gritted teeth, the sheer stress alone making him dizzy and disoriented. His body appeared to stiffen slightly, the strength draining out from him, his muscles all out of power. He was so close to losing consciousness.

Mark leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Please, _what_? Make no mistake, Nate. Though it might be an inconvenience to dispose of you here, I won't hesitate to do it."

" _No, no_..." The teenager coughed weakly as he struggled to protest. He was fighting for his life and tried one last time to pull himself free. But his resistance was futile. The boy couldn't get Jefferson's hand off of his fucking throat.

"Just look at you. You look pathetic, Nate." He stated in a disapproving tone, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

Nathan blinked sluggishly, the darkness ebbing and flowing around the edges of his vision. His strength was fading and so was everything else.

Mark finally let go of him, leaving him to slide down the wall. The dizzy feeling wouldn't go away as he sucked in the precious oxygen like a drowning man panting for air. His fingers clutched his bruised throat and massaged it while his own heart kept pounding in a relentless, uneven rhythm.

The seconds ticked by and Nathan was trying to get up but his limbs felt so heavy, as if weights were attached to them, slowing down his movements. Whenever he somehow managed to get back on his feet, his knees threatened to buckle and he fell down again.

A sense of deep-seated terror seized him when Mark returned, holding a syringe in one hand and a small vial in the other. Nathan watched in horror how he stabbed the thin needle into the phial, checking the clear liquid crawl past the one milliliter mark, then two, three, four, five and six. Carefully he pulled it out and knelt down beside him. That was an overdose. A lethal one.

"Now be a good boy and don't move or this will hurt... _much_." Mark announced soothingly, waiting a few seconds to let the words slowly sink in, watching the effect they had on his protégé.

Nathan was paralyzed and wanted to resist, yet he couldn't find the strength to do so. This feeling of fear was indescribable, like approaching death having a grip on his soul.

His voice sounded emotionless and clinical as he spoke like a doctor going over a routine procedure with his patient, informing him. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that once I inject this much into your bloodstream you'll die from shock in less than a few minutes."

"Any last words?" Mark asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to hold the boy's chin. A sad smile was on his lips, a look of regret clouding his features.

"Mark, please. I'm sorry. I won't do it, okay? I've made a mistake. You were right. I was an idiot." Nathan begged and tried to crawl backwards, his back now pressing against the wall behind him.

Mark clicked his tongue in disapproval and he preceded his response with a brief overture of silence before he asked. "You know how much I _hate_ begging. Don't you, Nate?"

"I-I... I'm sorry, okay?" His dark-blue eyes looked around the room aimlessly. There had to be a way out of this fucking mess.

His expression changed slightly, annoyance had been replaced by pensiveness as he whispered. "You're the son, I never had. I wish our partnership wouldn't have to end like _this_."

Nathan sobbed, the tears flooded his eyes. "You-You don't have to do this, dude. Look, I was fucking confused and I didn't think this through. You were right. I-I don't need the fucking punk, I only need _you_."

The older man's hand wrapped around his wrist. His thumb brushed over his pulse point almost tenderly and Nathan instinctively felt like a tiny mouse being at the mercy of a cat.

This was too much. The conflict was tearing him in half. On one hand he wanted to be with Chloe but the other part of him longed to stay with Mark. Was there even a right or wrong?

Mark's eyes followed the tears streaming down his face and he admitted. "You might think I never felt, or that I never cared but _I did_."

"I _know_. You were always there for me... _protecting_ me. When everyone kept pushing me, you were the only one who didn't. When I thought there's nowhere else to go, you were there." The boy nodded, matching his calm tone and ignoring the nervous trembling of his body.

Tugging on his wrist, he pulled his student to him and Nathan whimpered in return. This was the power his mentor held over him, over his life. His heart jumped with joy when Mark let go of his wrist and reached up to cup his face. Nathan automatically leaned into his touch and didn't even flinch. Only Mark's warm caress alone could calm that chaos inside his soul.

"Listen, son." Mark tilted his head to the side and a prudent shadow of a smile revealed itself on his lips. "Many things have happened in these past few months and each one of them had faintly, yet deeply cast its shadow over your life. Sean, Rachel, Max... Chloe. I believe all these experiences changed you and left your mind in absolute disorder. But you have to realize, Chloe isn't the one who can save you. She doesn't know you. She doesn't understand you. Not as much as _I do_. If you promise me to forget your foolish idea, I'll overlook your idiocy one last time. And do you know why?"

"Because you're my father." Nathan whispered, the tears slowly drying on his pale cheeks.

Mark nodded and reminded him. "Yes, Nate. Always remember, you're my son, my partner and nothing shall ever come between us. So do me a favor and stay away from Miss Chloe Price. This girl only poisons your mind and gives you false hope. It's best if you keep your distance from her, okay?"

Nathan stared at him and was unable to answer right away. Of course Mark only wanted to protect him from harm but could he really avoid the blue-haired punk girl? It seemed like an almost impossible task.

Shit, he knew he had no other choice if he wanted to live. It was either Mark or Chloe and the choice was obvious. Wasn't it?

Nathan sniffed, his eyes still blurry and his mind still racing from one thought to the other, not really knowing what to do. He heaved a sigh, unable to hide his frustration. "Fuck it! Okay, I swear I'll never meet this bitch again. It's what you want, right?"

Mark got up and carefully placed the syringe inside his bag, murmuring in a cold, dark voice. "We'll see. If you break your promise, I can assure you that there will be nothing left of Nathan Joshua Prescott after I'm done with you. Go now."

After saying those words the photography teacher turned away and dismissed him, not even bothering to watch him leave. This had been a surprising turn of events. Letting Nathan live presented a huge risk. Was he really willing to take that risk? Why didn't he get rid of him? The question wasn't easy to answer. When he saw his protégé like this, scared, helpless and awaiting his death Mark had felt strange. There had been an impossible skip in his heart which he couldn't explain nor understand.

Whatever it was, it had prevented him from killing his partner. Why? Yes, it would have been a hassle to take care of a dead body inside the school building. But the solution to this minor problem could have been Blackwell's dark room, located right next to the photography lab. He was the only one who had access to this place and even the cleaning staff usually never had the time to go there. So the only one who could complicate things was the Chief of Security, David Madsen. Hiding a corpse was one thing, yet getting the body out of school without arousing any suspicion would have been a difficult undertaking.

But that inconvenience wasn't what had caused him to hesitate in the end. Maybe he had really changed after all this time he had spent with Max. Had he grown soft? Had he developed feelings of sympathy and pity for Nathan which had ultimately saved his life? It was hard to say and it didn't really matter anyway.

Important was the here and now. Keeping Nathan Prescott alive was a huge gamble and he would make sure to keep an eye on the boy from now on. He wanted to be ready to face all eventualities.

* * *

Nathan sat alone in his red SUV with a cigarette loosely dangling from his colorless lips. That meeting with Mark Jefferson had left him tired, exhausted. He was a total wreck.

Only now the realization slowly sank in that he had just knocked at death's doors, muttering to himself. "Oh fuck! Shit, shit, shit!"

It was difficult to take a drag of his cig, his right hand was shaking without end. This near-death experience almost felt surreal. Especially here, where he was safe inside the shell of his own car, watching life go on as if nothing had happened. The birds were singing outside, Samuel was feeding his damn squirrels and several students were relaxing down on the grass, listening to their hip hop music and enjoying the warm October sun.

This day seemed so fucking beautiful but in his mind it was all a living hell. His fists punched the steering wheel in front of him. Again and again. A way to relieve this anger and growing frustration. But it wasn't enough. Cold sweat still drenched his clothes and the t-shirt underneath his white cardigan stuck to his skin. A shudder ripped through his body, making him dizzy from the receding adrenaline. His stomach churned in tense cramps and his eyes didn't stop throbbing. He was numb, couldn't move. A glance at his hands reminded him of the pain. His white knuckles were swollen, smeared with blood but he didn't seem to care.

"Fuck it!" He growled and threw his stub out of the car window. The pulsing ache in his head wouldn't fade away and he hastily fished out some new pills from his jacket pocket.

' _After we buried Rachel Mark told me that things will only get harder from here. And then he fucking quoted someone again. Some dude who once said it's always the darkest just before dawn_.' He remembered while he swallowed his meds and stared at his own reflection in the rear-view mirror. A face as white as a zombie glared back at him with glassy eyes. What a joke. He looked so fucked up, like a shitty junkie.

For a fleeting moment he fought the sudden urge to run back to Mark. To his god, his protector, his friend... his father. A dad who gave him his attention, his recognition and who supported him like no one else.

' _Yet he's also the guy who wanted to kill you, bro. Don't forget that._ ' He warned himself, the image of his mentor pointing the tip of a needle at his throat still vivid in his mind.

Nothing made sense anymore. Nathan had hoped that Mark would understand his situation, that he would encourage him to reveal the truth to Chloe. But he had been mistaken.

His hands covered his face now as if he was trying to hide from the world outside, to shut it out completely. ' _Dawn never came for me_.' He thought and had that sinking feeling to be a prisoner inside his own cocoon of hopelessness and despair. There was no way out. No lights at the end of his fucking tunnel.

If he wanted to see the dawn he had to find it himself. And to him dawn was none other than Chloe Price. She could be his spring after a long winter. She was hope, love, kindness and so much more.

Only Chloe could wake him up from this horrible nightmare. Only she would be able to take away this emotional turmoil, to stop his torment once and for all.

The young Prescott instinctively bit his lower lip and the metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth. He started the engine and muttered to himself. "Okay, bro. This is it! There's no going back now. You have to do this! For yourself... and for Chloe."

* * *

A strange sense of lost equilibrium welled up inside the photography teacher. Something felt off. Something was wrong. Of course it wasn't as if every hunch he had hit the mark but he suspected his bad feelings hit the bull's eye. Mark could feel unease rising to the surface of his conscience, knowing in this very moment that he had to act before it was too late.

He stormed down the hallway and saw David Madsen standing at the entrance. Although Mark had a natural aversion to anyone who couldn't appreciate art the same way he did, he had no choice.

If the teacher had to describe Madsen with only one word, he'd choose the word hard. A military veteran with a tough and fierce expression. Someone who had a mouth used to frowns, scowls and barking commands. His face was all clenched muscles with thin lips which had forgotten how to laugh or to smile. Not a model he would consider to capture but nevertheless a capable tool to deal with Nathan.

Casually wiping an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve with his hand, he approached the Chief of Security at Blackwell now. "Mr. Madsen, can I have a moment of your time, please?"

The other man's eyes zeroed in on him and a muscle in his jaw flexed. "What is it this time, Jefferson? I already told you that Kate Marsh is under surveillance and that her safety doesn't need to concern you. It's _my_ job. Not yours."

"I thought it's your responsibility as head of security to watch Mr. Prescott. He should be your primary target, not Miss Marsh." Mark corrected him, looking at him pointedly.

There was an unmistakable tick in Madsen's jaw. He clearly disapproved that a teacher reminded him how to do his job. "Mr. Prescott is under observation and that's all you need to know." Madsen barked back harshly, obviously not wanting to discuss this matter any further.

"Do I need to remind you that he's mentally ill and a possible threat to all Blackwell students? Or did you forget what happened to Ms. Caulfield the other day?" Mark asked with a raised eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest, his voice clipped and cold.

Mr. Madsen had an obvious twitch in his black eyes and hissed in return. "You really think Mr. Prescott is mentally ill? Then let me tell you it's just a cheap excuse. Teenagers these days can't withstand anything. Depression, anxiety, stress and Lord knows what? It's all in their heads and they just need to toughen up. I assure you I won't handle the boy with kid gloves like you do. The same goes for Ms. Caulfield. I served in the U.S. army and these students here wouldn't even last a single day there. Soldiers need discipline and rigor. Not counseling."

This man really had a way of grating on his nerves. Soldiers like Madsen should just follow their orders and keep their mouth shut. Mark realized he was almost shouting and quickly modulated his tone. "What these students need right now is safety, Mr. Madsen. If you don't deem it important to look after Mr. Prescott now, I'll have a word with Principal Wells. Surely, he'll reconsider if you're still suitable for this important profession."

Mentioning the principal had been enough to prick up the other man's ears. The security chief straightened up immediately and said in a gruff tone. "There's no need to contact Principal Wells. I will see Mr. Prescott now and you may rest assured that I'll investigate the matter thoroughly."

With that he whirled on his heel and stomped towards the exit. ' _This man is useless_.' Mark sighed and took out his cellphone to see if he had received any new information. Just when he was about to scroll through his messages he received a call. As expected it was his eyes and ears at Blackwell academy, his student Stella Hill.

Almost every young woman had at least a smidgen of a crush on him and Stella was no exception. The girl came from a poor family and only saw the opportunities and doors a man like Mark Jefferson could open for her. Another severe problem was her need for money. Or to put it in another way her constant struggle to pay for the drugs and stimulants she required for her studies. And every now and then he would offer her a new job as thanks for her service.

"Mr. Jefferson?" A shy voice asked at the other end of the line.

Mark tried to hide his impatience as he inquired. "Yes, Stella. Have you found Mr. Prescott?"

"Yeah, I spotted him when he drove out of the parking lot." His student replied.

His expression grew stern and his gaze already wandered towards the exit doors. "I see. Thank you for keeping an eye on Mr. Prescott. I'll make sure you get that job at the next Vortex Club party, cool?"

She seemed to be really grateful for his help and thanked him in a happy tone. "That's awesome. Thank you so much for helping me out, Mr. Jefferson."

"Anytime, Stella. I'll see you in class later, okay?" He quickly pressed the end call button on his display screen and was in a hurry to get back to his car. It seemed Nathan was out of control and there was nothing he could do. He had hoped the kid would cling to him for validation and support but he was wrong. He had underestimated the influence of Chloe Price.

Mark turned the key in the ignition. His dark-gray sedan powered up with a finely tuned purr and he turned his car onto the road. Something was going to happen and he reprimanded himself for being so naive, for not seeing it coming. He had an inkling for the past few months that something could happen. Rachel's untimely death had been the start signal which had rang his inner alarm bells. Things sometimes didn't go the way he liked them to. Or usually they only got worse.

Although the situation had now amplified up to full speed, the photography teacher didn't want to give in just yet. The decision point was wearing down on him, whether or not to drive to the hospital to stop Nathan. It was probably already too late. Mark generally plotted meticulously and allowed for little to no margin for error. He was a man who already pondered the next step before finishing the one before.

Driving down Arcadia Bay's main road he noticed an unusual amount of police cars patrolling the streets. When he spotted them, it felt like a lump of ice sliding down his back. His heartbeat spiked and his worst fear had manifested, ready to lead him to the coldest place imaginable.

' _Am I too late? Don't tell me that little shit already went to the police station to spill the beans_.' Mark thought, trying his best to keep his cool in this dire situation. Prison would never be an option for him and that was the reason why the man swore to himself that he wouldn't go down without a fight. There was only one place he had to go to now if he wanted to contain the damage Nathan's confession would cause.

* * *

A race against time had started the second Max had begun pumping her legs against the pedals. There was only one way left and that was moving forward, going as fast as she could. The autumn breeze blew against her face that she could feel the cold wind upon her sweating skin. Max felt so exhausted that she would have given anything to take a little break right now. Yet she couldn't stop here. Not now when her best friend Chloe was in danger. Instinctively she wound her fingers around the small camera pendant hanging from her neck, drawing strength from it. It almost was as if a part of Mark was still with her. As if this luck charm would protect her from any harm.

For a moment Max tried to smile, thinking to herself. ' _It's not so far anymore. I'm coming, Chloe. Hang in there!_ '

It was then when a familiar red car overtook her at great speed. Her face went completely pale when she recognized the license plate and read _SXFTNDR_.

"Holy shit, it's Nathan!" She panted breathlessly, watching the red SUV vanishing in the far distance.

Her hands clutched the chrome handle bar now as she rose from her saddle to increase her cadence. Like a true sprinter the young student combined the strength of her legs with her upper body, accelerating quickly and chasing after the SUV like a pursuer desperately hunting the yellow jersey of the leader in a grand tour race.

* * *

The contrasting beauty of the pure white clouds and blue skies was soon blotted out by the dark grays of heavy rain that arrived with rolling thunder. Thick clouds descended on the horizon. The faint crack of an electrical discharge in the distance approached his eardrums. The sound intensified until a hammer of light crashed down from the skies.

A silver flash snaked its way through the sky amid baying thunder, breaking the silence like smashed porcelain, its ominous reverberations still lingered in his ears as Mark Jefferson descended the stairs down to the corridor that led to the dark room. This room was the very embodiment of him. Dark secrets were hidden under this plain barn, just like he hid in plain sight and harbored the darkness inside of him. It was his sanctum. The teacher knew every nook and cranny after having the pleasure to work here for such a long time. To him this dark room was the perfect studio to realize his vision.

An excellent hideout at a remote location, safe from Arcadia Bay's prying eyes where he could steep himself in his greatest opus.

This was all about creating art, about capturing his model's purity, their innocence and its evolution in unrivaled monochrome shots. His lens was insatiable. Mark only sought the best, the absolute perfection and only time would tell if he would ever achieve his masterpiece.

His gloved fingers brushed over the glass surface of his desk, his observant eyes taking everything in. An unpleasant heaviness weighed on his shoulders as he walked through the room one last time. Soon he would have to part from his personal collection of self-indulgent memoirs, his red binders. Each one of them telling a different story yet sharing a common theme. Images of vulnerability, of a raw honesty when his models were caught in a moment between being almost unconscious and aware. A pure expression on their faces as they stared into the lens of his Hasselblad camera, witnessing them almost coming completely undone in front of his camera eye.

Sadly, Nathan had become a liability and had put him in check in their game of chess. The curtain was about to fall and everything would be over soon. His brown eyes were a furnace boiling with unbridled emotion as he looked around and saw the white backdrop plastered to the back wall or his different cameras which had seen so many models. The excellent printer which had printed his digital art pieces. His workplace where he had edited and improved all his shots. The couch where he had enjoyed his art with a glass of wine or whiskey. And finally the cabinet which contained all his work he had accumulated over these past few years.

A veil had come down between him and his obsession. Of course, it was indeed a major setback but it wouldn't be the end. This desire to capture innocence still stirred in his heart like a dormant leviathan coming to life. Would that hunger in his heart ever be sated? ' _No, nothing can satisfy the hunger of a soul_.' Mark thought and went to his stereo system.

Soon the quiet music of Jaqui Dankworth's ' _Your memory moved in to stay'_ could be heard, the sad melody reflecting his current mood.

The storm inside him was slowly but surely giving up its seat to calm as he sat down on the white couch and poured himself a glass of whiskey. The reflections of undulating whiskey flickered in his brown eyes as he poured a small waterfall of the amber liquid down his throat, a warm sensation spreading out through his body. It burned hot within his chest but came nowhere close to fill the empty space within him. He placed a single finger on the rim of his glass and couldn't keep his thoughts from barreling over a waterfall of concern.

This wasn't the end and he would do what was necessary for the sake of his goal. Today he had to shed his old skin and would lose half of himself. Giving up this perfect studio would leave a huge void and he would need to fill it with acquiring something new.

" _Max_." Mark whispered her name in a tender voice. If only she could be with him to ease this agony he felt right now.

The sound of approaching footsteps made his expression falter, betraying his surprise. His countenance was flushed with alarm.

"Who goes there?" Mark wanted to know, already getting up from the couch and turning towards the unwelcome intruder.

' _Is it Nathan? Or a police officer?_ ' He wondered and quickly scanned the area, searching for any weapons in his immediate surroundings he could use.

A familiar figure entered the room. It was a man dressed in the dark blue uniform of a Blackwell Academy security guard.

"Good god, what is this place, Jefferson? I knew you've been acting suspicious and that's why I followed you with a GPS tracker. It's my principle never to trust grown men with goatees." David Madsen snorted, throwing a cold, distrustful stare at him.

"This is private Prescott property, Madsen. Trespassing the premises is prohibited." Mark retorted, his deep-brown eyes regarding him quietly despite the vague tension that took root within him.

' _I have underestimated this idiot_.' Mark thought as a strange sensation ran through his veins. It was this feeling of going on the defensive. He should have anticipated that Madsen might show up here unexpectedly. The man was known to be paranoid and distrustful. So the possibility had been high that he could have chased after Mark like a persistent bloodhound.

"Then you shouldn't be here too. Yet _you are_. Don't think I'm blind, Jefferson. You can't fool me. I see everything that's going on at Blackwell and I _know_ the Prescott kid and you have been up to something. And you _will tell me_ exactly what it is you're hiding here or I'll call the cops." Madsen demanded gruffly, narrowing his eyes.

Mark's brown eyes fixed on him, the reflection on his glasses obscuring his concentrated gaze as he asked. "Really? Too bad there's no more evidence left to prove your accusations."

"What do you mean _by that_?" His dark eyes seemed to flare in this faint, white light of the studio.

Mark knew without a doubt that a fight was inevitable at this point. "It means that it's over. The police won't find anything after I'm done here." He announced in a calm tone, lifting his hand to adjust his glasses and seeing realization dawn on the security guard's face.

"You won't get away with this, you son of a bitch!" Madsen bellowed and pulled a combat knife from his belt, already adapting a typical fighting stance.

At this his calm facade was shattered and his eyes glinted dangerously as he warned him. "You can't stop me, David!"

If he had to fight here, he would do it efficiently with as little effort as possible, not wanting to waste too much energy and time on that idiot. The army veteran sprang forward and lunged at him, twirling the bladed weapon in his right hand.

Mark dodged the first attack with a twist of his body and countered with an aimed punch at his jaw, his fist colliding with all his body weight behind it.

It went on like that. David stabbed and slashed while Mark evaded his strikes, his intent eyes always looking for gaps in his defense. They knocked each other down and stopped each other's blows in an equal dance. The impeccable balance of their offense and defense wasn't so easily broken. Soon the spurting blood painted a morbid jigsaw puzzle across the white floor.

Mark managed to sink his right foot into his abdomen, sending him flying backwards. So far he had successfully avoided the splatters of blood coming from his opponent. He wanted to make sure not to ruin his clothes here. But eventually he could no longer favor aesthetics over perfect defense. His patience was wearing thin. He had to end this. Quickly.

What the teacher wanted badly was a weapon and to his surprise he discovered one. A tripod. Although it irritated him greatly to misuse a tool to create art, he had no other choice.

Madsen must have sensed that something had changed. His strikes came with a different speed and intensity now, his army knife weaving an intricate pattern of angles and curves. And parrying these precise attacks with a heavy and bulky tripod became more and more difficult. Minimal shifts of weight and stance allowed the veteran to land several hits.

Another slice sent a searing pain through his muscle tissue, causing Mark to retreat for a few seconds to catch his breath.

They looked at each other, panting from fatigue. This was the moment where both shared an understanding that their fight had finally reached its end.

Madsen charged at him and Mark backed away with a deft side step. The photography teacher spun the tripod and countered with a following strike at his stomach that forced the soldier to stagger back. This was his chance. Grounding his teeth Mark thrust his metal weapon into his chest once more, sending him tumbling down to the ground with a loud thud.

Although having just engaged and won in close combat against an experienced army veteran Mark didn't feel much like smiling. On the contrary, instead of feeling uplifted he rather felt tired.

Something in his eyes darkened as he watched his defeated opponent. What a mess. Madsen got too close to the truth and now he had to pay the price. There was no other way. It would be too dangerous to leave him alive. Mark only turned to murder as a last resort but he needed to eliminate anything that might incriminate him, tying up loose ends.

Mark's voice was grim and certain. "I do admire your tenacity, David. But _this_ is what you get for playing detective." With that he punched his face again and knocked him unconscious. His eyes were gazing at him with indifference as he scanned the damage, observing how blood leaked from his nostrils, the man's breathing becoming slow and shallow.

* * *

Nathan was back where he belonged. At Chloe's side. Somehow he had managed to keep himself in check, hiding that chaos which raged inside of him. This confession wouldn't be easy and the young Prescott already feared her reaction, or even worse, her rejection.

"Josh, I can't believe you'd come back so early. You don't know how much I've missed you. I know it has only been a day but still... I'm happy." Chloe breathed, her beautiful blue eyes shining like water sparkling in the sun.

As always Nathan could feel a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. Her mere presence alone was enough to take away the coldness lingering inside his soul.

Nathan leaned back against his chair and shook his head as though he was trying to remain serious. "Chloe, there's something I need to tell you."

The blue-haired girl furrowed her eyebrows, surprised to see her friend like that. "What's the matter? Did something happen at school?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff, you know." Nathan evaded, running a hand through his blond hair and feeling a huge lump in his throat.

This was difficult. How should he even begin to tell her this?

"It doesn't sound like the _usual stuff_. Are you _really_ okay?" Chloe asked, concern audible in her voice now.

His hand reached out like a leaping snake and grabbed her upper arm violently. "Chloe, we need to talk. It's important." He begged, his expression bitter now.

The girl blinked, seemingly confused and also slightly cowering at his harsh words. "Why? Please don't, Josh. Let me go! You're frightening me."

A certain wariness had crept into his tone as he finally admitted. "It's about _Rachel_."

They fell silent for no apparent reason and Chloe stared blankly back at him, not knowing what to say to that.

But then she finally found her voice again and wanted to know. "Please don't tell me she was your girlfriend. You know it would break my heart."

"She wasn't." Nathan clarified and quickly added. "I _loved her_ though."

The punk girl let out a nervous laugh. "I can't blame you. I mean, everyone loved Rachel, right?"

His grip tightened as if he was afraid to lose her, not wanting to let her leave. His blue eyes looked so dark like the sea at night as he pulled her forward a fraction, clenching his jaw as he revealed. "I loved her more _than that_."

Chloe winced from the pain in her arm and Nathan loosened his grip immediately. "It's okay. Rachel is gone, so it doesn't matter anymore. It's only _us_ now." She mumbled, little tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

He swallowed the rock lodged in his throat and a shade of bitterness was in his voice as he began. "But I know what happened to her and I think you need to know this too."

The girl said nothing and just waited with bated breath. A few seconds of silence passed before he went on. "I drugged her and then I took her to the dark room."

She gaped at him with an open mouth, trying to back away. "You did _what_? A _dark room_? I don't understand... What does _this all mean_?"

The uncomfortable tightness in his throat wouldn't go away and he exhaled slowly as if he was searching for the right words, seeming to be at a loss for an answer.

"I wanted Rach to love me but it didn't work out. I-I killed her. But it was an accident, okay? I didn't wanna hurt her... or anybody else." He was sobbing now, unable to keep this terrible secret to himself any longer.

Her expression had changed from worry to shock before going momentarily blank as if she were staring into an abyss now, whispering in disbelief. "My angel is _dead_?"

"I-I'm sorry, Chloe. Trust me, I've never wanted any of this." He stammered and could hardly look into her eyes again.

Trembling, shaking her head she cried, anger filling her voice now. "You're a _monster!_ "

It made his hair stand on end to hear her say those words. They had struck right there where it hurt the most. His heart.

An explosion of emotion had liquefied into tears, streaming down her face while she spat."Max had warned me about you but I was so dumb and didn't believe her. Because I _loved you_. But I'll never make that mistake again. _Never_!"

It was in that moment he heard Max fucking Caulfield's voice coming from behind him.

"Chloe! Get away from her, you crazy psycho!" She shouted and Nathan immediately got up from his seat, his angry eyes flashing at her, snapping. "Stay out of this Cockfield or I swear you're gonna regret this."

Her mouth dropped open but her scream was over before it began when she became aware of his weapon.

"A gun? In a hospital? Have you lost your mind?" The stupid hipster asked in shock and pointed a fucking taser at him now.

"Shut up, bitch!" Nathan yelled and could feel the rage welling up inside him. Everything had gone completely out of control and he hated it. Most of all he blamed Caulfield. Because of her fucking meddling it all went south.

"Take a step back, Nathan Prescott. I'm _warning you_." The Caulfield bitch ordered, still aiming that taser at him.

"You can't tell me what to do, hoe!" He hissed through gritted teeth and resisted the urge to rub his head. His headache was becoming worse again, hurting like hell.

" _Don't move_!" His voice was neither loud nor forceful but it exposed a vein of fury in the air all the same. And so its impact was enough to keep the selfie whore in check.

" _Josh_!" The sudden yell caused him to turn back to Chloe and the young man stared at the muzzle of a gun now, with a feeling he couldn't quite describe. It felt like betrayal, yet also like fear and relief mixed together. He had told himself he was ready to die for his sins if Chloe wouldn't forgive him.

In his voice was the faintest trace of the spirit he once possessed as he stared at her gun hovering between them, breathing. "You don't have to do this, Chloe."

There was a faint click which was even barely noticeable. Her hands that held the gun were visibly trembling now. Her voice quavered with conflicting emotions. "I have to. For _my angel_."

"Chloe, _please!_ " Nathan whimpered and aimed his gun at Caulfield now. If he would go down, he'd take this annoying bitch with him.

Max raised her weapon and that had been enough reason for him to pull the trigger, snarling. "I've warned you, hoe!"

But suddenly his words were drowned out as a blast of Chloe's gun hurled him backwards. Bright red blood burst from his neck and he fell down to his knees, gasping for air as his cardigan and red jacket were dyed crimson.

There was a violent throbbing in his ears as he tried to get up again. But his muscles were no longer responding to his brain's commands. His blue eyes lost focus. Chloe was becoming blurred in his field of view. The darkness was closing in on him. Sensations from all five senses were fading as if with distance. The world was narrowing rapidly and everything was growing darker. Strangely, there was no fear. Perhaps his worst fear had been the possibility he had already been facing. That he was not going to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved. But there was something he needed to tell her before the last ounce of his strength flowed out.

"C-Chloe, I'm sorry." Nathan croaked and had just enough breath left to finish what he had to say, "I love you." His eyes fell shut and he surrendered to the comforting darkness as if a weight had been finally lifted off his shoulders. The last thing he heard was a faint sob and then there was no more sound at all.

Max felt a sharp sense of pain flash through her chest. The area where the bullet had hit her was hot and bloody. All her limbs felt numb as her body succumbed to the ruthless exhaustion and sagged onto the ground. The screams of her best friend were fading away as her blood rushed into her head, turning her ears deaf. Her hand went up and automatically clutched the small camera pendant. There were still many things she needed to see, as well as things she needed to hear. Most of all, there was a man who meant so much to her. A man she loved with all her heart. Her soul belonged to him and that thought alone was enough to draw strength, refusing to give up this battle here.

' _No, it can't end like this._ _I promised Mark to submit a photo for the Everyday Heroes contest and I will keep this promise_.' One last weak smile played on her lips before she closed her eyes, slowly losing her consciousness.

* * *

The Prescott barn was engulfed in a sea of fire and an odor of smoke and burning wood permeated the air. Mark stared at the vast clouds of smoke that boiled from the building. The heat was intense and the flames roared as they consumed what was once his secret haven.

He had to wrestle down his emotions, thinking about the immensity of what he had lost today. It wasn't only the loss of his studio he regretted. No, it was also witnessing how years of his work and a huge part of his expensive photography equipment went up in flames.

Mark didn't want to take any chances. It was better to be safe than sorry so he had decided with a heavy heart to destroy everything, even all his red binders. Who knew how much information Nathan had let out.

But it didn't really matter anymore. When the shutters of their secrets were broken and the light of truth came flooding in, Mark had made sure that the shadows lurking in that bunker were forever extinguished with fire. Nothing would lead back to him.

Soon the barn and everything inside the bunker would be reduced to nothing but ashes and charcoal. However underneath the ashes his passion would still smolder. Like a blazing fire you could never put out.

He slowly peeled off the latex gloves one by one while his eyes never left that image of destruction, the raging fire devouring everything in its path.

A ringing sound distracted his musings. One glance at the display screen showed him that Raymond Wells was the person who tried to reach him by phone.

Frowning Mark accepted the call, speaking in a soft tone. "Ray, what can I do for you?"

The Principal sounded impatient. "Mark, where the hell have you been?"

He looked down at his bloody shirt and suit jacket, replying with a sigh. "I forgot some important teaching material at home and needed to get back to fetch it. Why? What's the matter? Did something happen?"

"There was a shooting incident which involved two of our students. Nathan Prescott and Max Caulfield. From what I gathered so far both were injured. According to his father Mr. Prescott is in critical condition." Principal Wells informed him.

He could feel a shadow of uneasiness stretching towards him. His worry audible in his voice now as he asked. "And Miss Caulfield?"

The man at the other end of the line vented a sigh and answered. "Unfortunately, the doctors couldn't give me any information but let us pray that she's safe. Also I have to ask you to come back to Blackwell at once. The police is investigating this case and requests our full cooperation."

A slight pause. Horror squeezed his throat and for a moment he had this feeling he couldn't breathe anymore. Mark visibly struggled to pull himself together, the cellphone shaking in his grip.

Thick clouds gathered about his expression but he didn't let it show as he assured him in a matter-of-fact tone. "Of course, Ray. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Would today be the day where he had to lose everything his heart desired? He loved Max. He would always love her and he could never accept that someone could take her away from him. It was an unpleasant feeling, like a creeping sensation. A coldness ran through his veins, spreading like venom through his guts, chilling him to the bone.

"I won't lose you, Maxine." Mark whispered, turning away and leaving the ashes of his dark room behind.


	16. Chapter 15: Death and Awakening

**Life is Strange ~ Capturing your soul ~**

 **A/N:** _As always thanks to my guest reviewers and tur1823, lunamoon531, Nonexistent321 and eva-sparda20. You guys are awesome. It means so much to me to read your kind reviews. Once again I'm sorry for the long wait, an evil writer's block got me and writing this chapter took me longer than I thought. Anyway, this chapter here is super long and I hope you'll enjoy it. Also big thanks to anyone who pushed the fav or follow button, it's very much appreciated. :)_

 **Chapter 15: Death and Awakening**

The night came crawling in, the shades of the sky growing deeper and deeper. Twilight was slowly, gently falling. Several hours passed by and a dark sapphire canopy flecked with tiny stars spread out over his head.

Mark Jefferson was ensconced in the darkness of his Sedan like some sort of nocturnal animal. The black canvas of the night engulfed him, serving as a perfect background as the man regarded his own reflection in the front window. There was an uncomfortable quietness around him as he felt the silence growing louder and louder, being alone here, subjected to a torrent of his own thoughts and feelings. His index finger began to move, tapping impatiently against the leather steering wheel. Again and again. It was the only sound that broke this eerie silence.

Soon the soft, shimmering silver light of the full moon became his only companion, giving his facial features a distinct, ominous glow.

For a very long moment his brown eyes seemed to go distant as he stared out of the car window. Then they became intense and clear in their focus again, almost gleaming in the pale moonlight. Stellar coronas were dancing wildly in those dark eyes when his gaze shifted towards the hospital building.

His student, the woman he loved still remained in critical condition. No one could say if she would be able to recover from her injuries or not. Day after day he had hurried to the hospital after school, desperate to learn anything new. But the doctors wouldn't tell him anything since he was only Max Caulfield's art teacher and not a close family member. Fortunately, his charm worked perfectly on the many young nurses who were more than eager to share some information about the student's state of health with the charismatic photographer.

Although Max had barely survived Nathan's attack her condition continued to be perilous. It was sheer luck that the bullet had only hit her ribs, preventing any damage to her organs. Still, the shot itself had caused several rib fractures. But much more severe had been the internal bleeding and the resulting loss of blood. And what worried everyone the most was the location of her wound.

The injury was close to her lungs and thus inhibited her breathing. The medical experts had seen no other option but to immediately undergo surgery. As far as he could learn the emergency operation had been a success and they had placed his student in an artificial coma afterwards.

However, this feeling of unease wouldn't leave him, causing a sudden writhing in the subversive corners of his heart. The sheer thought alone to lose Maxine was unbearable to him. He felt himself being on the verge of falling apart. An artist without his muse was like a star with no sky. Its light and heat shone but vainly into the darkness.

 _'I have nothing if I don't have you, Max.'_ He thought and felt an empty space in his heart that wasn't easily filled. Not even a new bunker with another dark room or a brand-new Hasselblad camera could bring him any contentment now.

And all this was Nathan's fault. His former protégé had nearly killed her. Why had he been so blind? Instead of worrying about covering his tracks and wasting precious time in the Prescott bunker he should have dealt with the boy in the first place.

In the end his imprudent and rushed action only made matters worse. He had led David Madsen straight to the dark room which had left him with no other choice than to kill him. A pointless victim. A death that could have been avoided.

Yet what really angered Mark was the fact that he couldn't protect Max. His half-assed measures weren't enough to handle Nate. If Max would die now, he could never forgive himself. This possible outcome made his throat tight with a sickening sense of guilt and regret.

Yes, it was Nathan who hurt her but in the end Mark himself had been the catalyst who had triggered the confused kid like a bomb. This certainty to have everything under control had just been an illusion. His so-called perfect plan had been a grave miscalculation which almost cost Max her life.

 _Max..._ The only woman he had ever offered his heart to was gone. His soul mate. His other half who completed him, who he could confide in, who gave new meaning to his life.

 _'Isn't it the heart's desire of every artist to find such a brilliant muse?'_ Mark Jefferson asked himself in his thoughts.

She was the perfect muse with whom he wanted to share his ideas and thoughts. A mind equal to his own. A kindred spirit. A companion to accompany him on the road to realizing his vision, his dream. He had shown her everything. His darkness, his true art. In the end he had even exposed his bare soul to her. The softest, most fragile parts of himself.

This was love, wasn't it? To become vulnerable. To show everything you were to someone else. Not only the good parts about yourself but also the darkest ones. Your partner saw you completely and in return you were seen by her with no barriers separating you. No more hiding behind a mask, no more lies, no more secrets. What a strange, unfamiliar sensation this was. Thrilling, utterly terrifying, but at the same time also somehow liberating. He had never experienced anything like this before.

But now he felt like being cut in half. His eyes were occluded by clouds of sadness and melancholy. There was only silence in his mind, like there was nothing left inside of his soul. Mark could barely remember the police interrogation which had taken place at Principal Wells' office the other day or recall the seemingly endless questions of the inquiring police officers. Their muffled voices had been like distorted sounds surrounding him, similar to music of a broken record playing on constant repeat.

In the end, only fragments of that whole conversation stayed in his mind. The police still considered Nathan Prescott as their prime suspect and they had classified the Chief of Blackwell security, Mr. David Madsen as possibly suspicious as well. On one hand they had gathered incriminating evidence on Wells' computer. Some of Nathan's cryptic scribbles about the security guard appeared puzzling to them. But also Madsen's strange decision, or rather his doing nothing after Max Caulfield's head injury were raising many questions.

It was especially noteworthy that Madsen didn't try to contact Arcadia Bay's police department at that time although Max clearly seemed to be in danger. No one took her worries and fears seriously at Blackwell until it had been too late. There had been no reports about that one incident and the police blamed Principal Wells' irresponsible behavior in particular.

On the other hand the investigators had soon identified the charred remains of David Madsen's corpse inside the burned-down Prescott barn. Inside Madsen's car they also secured evidence of a contract between David and Sean Prescott, verifying that they had been working together on Sean's Pan Estates project. That discovery turned the focus of prosecution to the old Prescott now. Not only because the dead body was found on his property but also the remnants of the mysterious underground bunker baffled the policemen. When the police questioning had reached that point, Mark's mind had been thrown into another world. He had recalled the flames in his memory. How the wind had carried the smoke through the air. The wild dance of sparks and cinders. How they had assailed his ears like a menacing, haunting melody, announcing the end of his dark room.

Back then his mind had only returned to the here and now again when his ears had picked up a certain piece of information. An assumption that Madsen and Nathan were connected, that they were secretly acting together as a team and that David had supposedly been trying to destroy all evidence as a last resort. Their speculation was that the security guard had killed himself in the fire to escape arrest or they presumed that he couldn't live on with his feelings of guilt.

How convenient it all was. This turn of events amused Mark somehow. The work of the police in this case was a mediocre performance at best. But what could you expect from ordinary street cops? They weren't FBI agents. And the photography teacher had no qualms whatsoever about offering that fascist fuck up as a scapegoat to secure his own freedom.

' _You were an utterly useless security guard. But at least in death you can serve a purpose. Rejoice, David. Your demise wasn't in vain._ ' Mark thought. Fortunately Arcadia Bay's police didn't seem interested in taking a look behind the curtain, to discover who really pulled Nathan's strings.

Another part of the mosaic was the important witness testimony of Chloe Price. Her accusation plunged the Prescott family into an even deeper void because her statement suggested that Rachel Amber's disappearance, or rather her death was associated with Nathan Prescott as well, singling him out as her murderer. At least these idiots would finally solve the mystery of Rachel Amber's death.

For the Prescotts, however, an abyss had opened up and the entire family gazed right into it. This was exactly the kind of major scandal Sean Prescott had always been struggling to avoid. Now the whole town of Arcadia Bay would finally find out what his elite son had been doing for homework. A revelation which would surely leave a dark spot on the rich man's white vest.

Nathan would pay the price for his crimes after all. One way or another. Unfortunately all this wasn't much of a consolation for Mark Jefferson when his thoughts returned back to Max. He could feel the black stains of despair gradually eating away at his mind yet there was only one thing which kept this unbearable feeling of uncertainty in check.

Hope. Hope rose in his chest like a swelling tide and gave his restless heart something concrete to hold on to. A strong wish that Max would survive, that the doctors would do everything in their power to help her heal her serious injuries. His hope was like a single straw at which he was grasping in desperation on a stormy sea.

His thoughts were racing through the darkness of his past to the labyrinth of his future. "And to think after what my uncle did to me I thought I had nothing left to lose anymore." Mark murmured into the silence of his empty car, bearing in mind the old scars upon his soul and thinking about the agony of loneliness, a life without his Maxine.

His face was stricken, lost and in so much pain, being at a loss of what to do with that feeling of absence spreading within him.

Once again he forced calm upon himself, his brown almost black eyes behind his glasses glittering with cold intensity. There was nothing he could do now. Mark decided that he would have to wait, letting the flow of events take him where it would lead him, even though the end of that flow was likely a waterfall plunging straight into hell.

As if on cue the night sky became bleak with gray, billowing rain clouds. The weather was a perfect mirror of his current mood. Mark opened the door and left the warm comfort of his car. He needed to feel something... anything to calm his inner turmoil. The cold water came crashing down, sharp and cold against him, the icy rain drops thick and unrelenting. His suit jacket and white shirt soaked through in seconds and clung wet against his shivering skin. He could feel the weight of his drenched clothes, how they felt so heavy on his body and weakened his posture. His lone figure walked away from the street, avoiding the bright, yellow light of the street lamps. Slowly, the shadows closed in around him, hiding him away. Whenever his dark past began to haunt him, he started to long for what was pure. To regain what he had once lost. He needed the light to come out of the darkness. Max was his light and without her he was only a shadow.

' _Maybe this is what I am, what I'll always be. A shadow condemned to live in an infinity of pitch darkness forever._ ' Mark thought as his face fell into an unreadable, expressionless mask. Once again his whole world turned black, devoid of any color.

* * *

Low whispers started to invade her consciousness, slowly pulling Max from the black oblivion of her coma towards the waking world. Through the fog of her medicated mind blurred images and distorted sounds began to mix together. Senses and feelings coming back until coherent thoughts started to surface in her mind. When a sense of self finally returned to her, her perception was suddenly overloaded by a surge of panic and distressing signals as if her own body was trying to warn her that something was terribly wrong here.

Bewilderment and fear were visible on her pale face when unbidden memories flooded her mind, uncontrollable and wild like an unstoppable tsunami. Max remembered Nathan Prescott, how that lunatic had pointed a gun at her. She recalled the hot, searing pain spreading in her chest and that one final moment when darkness had swallowed her whole.

To her the coma had felt like an eternal night, like wandering blindly through a void of nothingness. Without direction, without guidance. Like a lifeless ghost without a body. The only thing she could do was muster all her strength, to wait and not lose hope as an invisible force dragged her toward an empty space. Like a magnet pulling her further down into a gaping hole.

She slowly registered that she was lying in bed. There was a soft pillow under her head and large blankets covered her body, keeping her safe and warm. Her joints were stiff and sore, she ached all over. The darkness behind her eyelids grew brighter. Suddenly her blue eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming in and out of focus. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, in and out of reality. All she could make out here were vague, shadowy shapes. Everything seemed to be blurry. Then the pain was back, dull and unrelenting, overwhelming all her senses in an instant. Max tried to get up from her bed but the motion alone caused her to gasp from exhaustion. Only now she realized that tubes had been stuck inside her nose and throat. Hysteria threatened to take over, her panic rose to new levels. The muscles of her throat clenched automatically and she could taste the bile at the back of her mouth. Her body began to shake violently, moving on its own by now. A sudden, natural reflex to gag or throw up came over her. She couldn't help but struggle, attempting to wriggle free and get rid of those damn plastic tubes.

Nurses immediately rushed to her side. Their dark silhouettes surrounded her as they tried to hush her, asking her to keep still while they started to carefully remove the tubes from her throat. It was such a strange and uncomfortable experience when they pulled them out of her body. Max's eyes darted frantically around as if they were pleading with the women to work faster. All her instincts screamed at her to get up and breathe but she couldn't.

"Shh, it's alright. Don't worry. You're okay, just stay calm. Focus on my voice and try to breathe." One female voice advised in a soothing tone, taking her attention away from what they were doing to her. Another pair of hands held down one of her wrists to ensure that the IV needle in the back of her hand remained safe.

 _'Easier said than done_.' Max thought with gritted teeth, trying her best to endure the whole procedure.

One nurse stroked her hand, speaking very slowly in a matter-of-fact tone and explaining each and every single step to her. Somehow that approach worked. Their patient clutched her own hospital gown in her fists and closed her eyes as she forced herself to stay calm although it was a very difficult endeavor.

After the removal was finally over and done with the young woman instinctively coughed. She had trouble to even breathe as if the function of her lungs had suddenly been degraded.

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again, her tired mind attempting to process the overall situation.

" _Where_?" Max managed to ask, her own weak voice no louder than a whisper. It was like the inside of her mouth had become as dry as a desert.

One of the nurses reached down and touched the tips of her fingers, her tone was appeasing and gentle as she informed her. "You're at Arcadia Bay General Hospital but please, don't worry. You're going to be fine. We already send for your attending doctor. He'll be here any minute and will explain everything to you, okay?"

Max only nodded at that wordlessly, a single tear beginning to form in her right eye. She didn't feel okay at all. Every single breath produced a new wave of dull pain across her chest, no matter how slow and careful she tried to breathe in and exhale. Furthermore her limbs refused to work right, she felt disoriented and physically weak. Her own self diagnosis was enough to amplify her worries. That and also the scraps of her memories painting a horrible picture in her head of what she had gone through before she had lost her consciousness.

Just remembering all those images caused a violent throbbing inside her body as if she was reliving that painful experience again and again. A loud sound of a gun shot which rang in her ears. Soon followed by an unbearable, burning ache in her chest which never seemed to fade away. All that was left was a spinning darkness. A massive black hole welcomed her and she fell. Down, down, down, with no ground in sight.

' _Nathan shot me in the chest, for Christ's sake! That crazy psycho wanted to kill me_.' The mere realization made her feel dizzy but also angry. One part of her, the darker side of her, wanted to see Nathan's face one more time again. So that she could obliterate it forever in her mind, shatter it into a thousand tiny pieces and grind those pieces into nothing, erasing him completely from her memory. Her hands automatically grabbed hold of her comforter as her thoughts wandered further.

' _Oh no, what if that lunatic has shot Chloe too? Damn, I need to know if she's okay. God, please, let her be safe.'_ This nagging worry about her best friend was coiling in and around in her mind. All these concerns cast a shadow over everything, they were enough to send her heart racing, letting the blood drain from her face.

Thoughts formed and broke apart in her head. It was a feeling like groping her way through a labyrinth of her own thoughts until she saw an image of Mark appear in her inner mind's eye. Did he even know what had happened to her? When would she be able to see him again? And what had happened to his gift, the camera pendant he had given to her? Was it still there? Or had she lost it?

 _'Jeez, come on, Max! Don't be a retard. They probably removed the necklace when they changed my clothes for surgery. Duh!'_ Her inner voice reminded her.

A twinge of a mild headache overcame her. Her restless mind bombarded her with all those questions to which she didn't know all the answers yet. All her worries looped around in her mind, making her head feel bloated like it was about to explode. If this would go on like that she was fairly certain to go crazy soon.

' _Chillax, Super Max. Don't freak out now. That won't solve your problems one bit._ ' Max reminded herself and tried to search for a distraction. Her blue eyes wandered around and stared at her IV which was hooked up to a drip monitor. Then she spotted the screen of her heart rate monitor right next to it, following the green and blue wave curves of the electrocardiogram while her ears concentrated on its monotonous beeping sounds. Max could almost feel each and every single heartbeat in her chest. The beat turned into her own metronome, its even rhythm keeping her soul at a steady pace.

A quiet knock at the door aroused her attention, followed by footsteps as a doctor approached her bed. If Max would have to guess his age, she estimated him to be in his early forties.

The tall man in white coat pulled up a chair to sit next to her bed and introduced himself, his voice sounding friendly. "Hello, Miss Caulfield. I'm Dr. Eric Dawson and I'm so glad to see you're finally awake again."

Max only nodded in reply, remembering how hard and painful it was just to utter a single word. The doctor held a yellow folder in his hands and quickly skimmed through the pages, giving her a kind smile and talking in a professional tone. "As you probably know, you have suffered from a gun shot injury. The bullet grazed your ribs which caused several bone fractures. There are no internal injuries though, except that the damage is close to your lungs but we've already treated that best we can."

She listened attentively and blinked a few times, trying to stay focused. Her body slightly shifted beneath the blanket as she fought that hollow feeling in her stomach. Frowning, she mustered all her strength, ready to embrace the pain, asking the question that had been nagging in the back of her mind.

"Chloe...", Max rasped and paused for a moment, enduring this strong pain of speaking before she managed to ask him, "Is she okay?"

Dr. Dawson smiled at her and his voice took on a reassuring tone. "Thanks to your intervention your friend is still alive and kicking. Miss Price told me it was actually you who saved her life. You can pride yourself on what you have achieved here, Max. You're a real hero."

Max felt tension drain from her entire body. These were the best news she had received in a long time.

 _'Chloe has suffered enough already. I'm so glad she's okay._ ' Max thought with a smile on her lips.

"Now, let us check your lung function." Dr. Dawson removed the stethoscope he wore around his neck to examine her respiration function, furrowing his brows slightly as he intently listened to the sound of her breathing and watched her rib cage go up and down.

After a while that felt like an eternity he finally looked up again and gave her another warm smile. "Okay, I detect no irregularities. That's good."

Max tried to smile at that and he went on with his typical, clinical voice. "We've made a CT scan that shows all your fractures. It's nothing serious but you'll need lots of time to recover. There will be pain if you try to move so I must urge you to stay in bed, if you please. Also you shouldn't touch the spot where your ribs are fractured or it'll hurt even more."

She pointed an index finger at her mouth and threw him a questioning look. The doctor immediately understood what she meant and explained further. "In the beginning your chest will hurt of course when you breathe or when you try to speak but I assure you there's nothing to worry about. I can only encourage you to take deep breaths to avoid pneumonia. I know it hurts but I'll give you an ibuprofen injection which will ease the pain, alright?"

Dr. Dawson picked a capped syringe off the side table and tapped it with a finger. It was filled with a clear liquid, very similar to the syringes she had inspected in the dark room.

Max eyed the syringe in his hand, watching how the tip of the needle glinted in the light. Trepidation filled her as he brought the needle up and grasped her wrist. At that one moment an image of Mark flashed in her mind. How often had she wondered if he would ever drug her like one of his models.

And what was even more frightening was the realization that she had to admit to herself to look forward to this possibility.

Lately there had been many times where she felt a strong desire to experience this herself. To be under his control. Trusting him fully and completely. It seemed his influence was gradually changing her, turning her into a new person, a new Max. A Max who was fascinated by his darkness, who was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Maybe one day she would be able to share his vision and become a part of his world. It felt important to her to acknowledge this other side of him, to accept it and to understand the man she loved.

She was pulled out of her reverie as she felt something cold and moist on her skin. It seemed the doctor had finished wiping a small spot on her forearm with an alcohol swab.

"The pain will be gone soon, I promise." Dr. Dawson assured her, giving her the shot and performing a few basic physical exams afterwards while he waited for the injection to take effect.

"Do you still feel pain now, Miss Caulfield?" He inquired, his voice almost sounding paternal.

Max shook her head in response and he seemed satisfied now. "Very good. I'll check on you tomorrow again. Please try and go easy on your throat, I'm afraid the first days are going to be rough for you."

"Thanks." She croaked, her own voice sounding so different now.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine in no time, okay? Just get some rest and if you're feeling any better you can also receive some visitors today."

The prospect of meeting someone she knew made her more than happy. At the end of the examination Dr. Dawson tested her memory and cognitive functions one more time before addressing other issues such as medication or further treatment. However, Max had trouble to stay awake and keep her eyes open. Her head began to swim and she couldn't maintain her concentration any longer.

' _Must be the painkillers. That stuff makes me so damn tired.'_ She thought, slowly closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Her dream took her back to the familiar environment of the photography classroom. She sat at her usual spot at her desk and a man she knew so well by now entered her line of sight. He came closer and closer until he stood right next to her seat. There was a rustling sound of fabric as Mark bent down, his lips almost touching her earlobe and the tone of his voice so soft, like a gentle whisper reaching her ears. So soothing and calm, washing over her like warm shower water. ' _You changed me in ways you can't even begin to imagine. You complete me, Max._ '

' _And you complete me, Mark.'_ Max breathed in return and wondered for a moment if this was dream or reality. Yet, whatever it was, she didn't want this moment to end.

* * *

A silence that was like vaporized lead filled Nathan's hospital room. They were all here. His father Sean, his mother Caroline and even his older sister Kristine had returned from Brazil to be at her brother's side. A whiff of Mrs. Prescott's expensive perfume invaded Mark's nostrils when she reached inside her leather handbag with her manicured hand. The intense, aromatic-floral fragrance permeated every current in the air of the room. Caroline and her husband had a special radiance about them that demanded everyone's attention.

His perceptive eyes as former fashion photographer could easily recognize the quality of their neat clothing. Sean wore a perfect tailored suit. It was an elegant, wool pinstripe blazer in dark blue colors with matching pants by Versace. Even his shiny black shoes seemed as if someone had polished them to perfection.

His wife Caroline also made quite an impression, dressed in a timeless black and white dress with the unmistakable signature graphic patterns which defined the typical Gucci fashion style. Everything about her made a statement, from the finest fabric she wore to the dazzling jewelry, impeccable hairstyle and flawless make-up. The Prescotts truly made no secret of the fact that they were one of the richest and most powerful families, showing off their wealth to everyone.

To his surprise their daughter Kristine stood out like a sore thumb here, wearing an old, ripped jeans and a knee-length blouse with long sleeves, adorned with embroidery and colorful, tribal decorations. It was almost puzzling to him that her face looked so much like Nathan's, as if she was a female twin of her brother, only with longer hair. This young woman was unmistakably a modern hippie, a rebel. There was no doubt about it.

Mark had that strange feeling to be an outsider, that he wasn't supposed to be here with them. Kristine's eyes glared at him. That kind of glare which only left one clear message, telling him to leave them alone. Caroline on the other hand was trying hard to keep her emotions in check, not wanting to break out in tears in front of someone who wasn't family.

Yet Sean wanted him here. Nate's father valued the esteemed photographer and regarded him as a trusted friend of his family.

Furthermore it had been Sean Prescott himself who had brought him to Arcadia Bay in the first place, offering him the position as art teacher at Blackwell Academy. If it weren't for his friend's efforts and continued insistence Mark wouldn't even be where he was today.

Perhaps Sean felt some sort of obligation, knowing that Mark had always looked after his son and had nurtured his talent in their private lessons.

They were all in a room of the intensive care unit. A separated area where the doctors monitored the boy's condition. It was sparsely furnished. There was hardly any decoration whatsoever, only a few prints of old paintings were hanging on the bleak, gray walls and a blue vase with sunflowers was placed on the side table next to the bed. Yet what bothered him the most was the lighting. It was too bright for his taste. In his mind excessive light always destroyed the color in his photos which was another reason why he preferred to adjust everything to his liking. Another thing that annoyed him greatly was that the life-supporting systems and medical equipment took up the most space of the room, making the place feel rather cramped and crowded.

A sudden draft of warm air hit his face now, the odor being a mixture of antiseptics, detergents and bleach tincture. Mark instinctively wrinkled his nose and tried to ignore that unpleasant smell. His attention turned towards Nathan instead. He couldn't help but feel a strange twist of emotion when he saw his student lying there on the bed.

His brown eyes observed the slow, even rise and fall of his chest. The boy's bony arms were like skinny sticks positioned down at his sides. He looked so frail and feeble like a living corpse, as if he was weighing nothing at all. There were so many different life support tubes and attachments which went into his body. The only devices which kept him alive, which kept him breathing.

Nathan's shaven head was wrapped with thick, white bandages, indicating that he probably underwent a brain surgery. Somehow he looked so peaceful and tranquil in his comatose state. His facial features were relaxed and he appeared to be younger than he actually was, almost looking like an innocent child.

Any emotion was concealed behind his expressionless face but beneath his mask Mark Jefferson actually smiled, one corner of his mouth creeping infinitesimally higher.

His former partner and protégé was trapped somewhere between life and death, completely unaware of the world surrounding him. According to the doctors Nathan's mind was most likely lost in a sea of darkness of pure nothing stretching on forever and ever. The teenager would grow old in this hospital room. His body would become weaker and weaker, he would wither until death would finally claim his life.

The gleam in Mark's eyes contained needles as he stared at Nathan's unconscious body.

' _I've warned you many, many times... You reap what you sow, Nate._ ' Mark thought and for a fleeting second the urge to end the brat's life right here and now was coursing through every centimeter of his body. How satisfying it would feel to put his fingers around Nathan's pale, delicate neck. To squeeze the air out of him, to watch his strained muscles and thick veins pulsating with blood, to behold how all remaining colors would slowly drain from his face. To take in his expression intently, this delightful cocktail of pure emotions. His fear, confusion, pain, panic, anger and despair reflected in his blue eyes. It would be such a fascinating sight. Of course, his death wouldn't help Max in the slightest but maybe it would somehow brighten his sour mood, if only for a short moment.

From the corner of his eye he now caught a glimpse of Sean's wife, she was sitting alone in the far corner of the room, the sound of her quiet sobbing blending with the loud noises of the medical machines.

His sister on the other hand stood right in the middle, rooted to the spot, her dark blue eyes searching the ones of her father.

Oh, how he would have loved to have his Hasselblad H5D camera with him now. All these raw emotions around him were only waiting to be captured in black and white. Mark could already see himself focusing his lens on their facial expressions and gestures, distilling his subject's buried feelings like a true artist. That was his purpose as a photographer, to strip his models naked and let all those repressed feelings come to the surface. Caroline's sweet sadness, Kristine's boiling temper that she so carefully tried to keep in check. Or Sean's fears which he kept so well hidden beneath his cold, composed exterior.

Still, even without his camera he could revel in the overall atmosphere and take it all in. After all, a good photographer was also a master of silent observation and Mark was more than curious what the Prescott family would reveal to his watchful eyes.

"You know, it's all your fault, dad. All this time Dr. Jacobi and Dr. Bill have informed you about Nathan's mental health problems. You knew about his schizophrenia, his depression or bipolar disorder. His doctors sent you countless letters but you never took them seriously. Now _look_ what happened." Kris snapped, pointing a finger at the bed and glaring at the older man with anger in her eyes.

In that one moment Sean finally turned around, dividing his gaze equally between his wife and daughter. His strict eyes alone had the power to silence his family without the use of any words.

When he spoke next, there wasn't even a speck of sympathy in his voice. "Enough, Kristine! I won't tolerate your insolence any longer!"

"But..." Kristine began again yet the expression on Sean's face was enough to stop any further protests.

"Your little brother brought this upon himself. Nathan chose to bring shame on all of us, to disgrace our family name and to sully our reputation." Sean Prescott remarked in a deep voice, his dark eyes looking at his son with obvious disappointment and also disgust.

Kristine sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, daddy, can't you see? Our reputation was already ruined a long time ago. You're just too arrogant and full of yourself to see it."

" _Silence_!" Sean barked in return, seemingly struggling to keep his composure as he went on. "What you think or assume doesn't interest me. You've decided to leave our family, do you remember that? Unlike your brother you never showed any interest in inheriting our business or continuing our family legacy. At least Nathan tried to follow his destiny as a true Prescott. But it seems I've misjudged him. The role I intended for him was too big and his so-called emotional issues were just used as an excuse to shy away from his responsibilities. A pity, really. I had such high hopes in his abilities but in the end he was only another failure... another loser... _just like you_ , Kristine."

The young woman crossed her arms and shot back. "Oh, come on, don't give me that crap! There's no one in this world who can fulfill your insanely high expectations. No one is ever good enough for you. Not even your own children. You've put so much pressure on us that it was only a matter of time until we were crushed by it."

"And what about you, mom? You don't believe his bullshit now, do you?" Kristine asked her mother, obviously searching for an ally to side with against her father.

"Darling, he's right. You know your brother. Nathan turned a deaf ear to everything we said and refused to accept any help. It's _not_ our fault." Caroline tried to explain but her daughter only shook her head in return.

Kristine used a mocking tone now as she made clear. "The sad thing is you never even tried to help him. You just passed him around from one psychiatrist to the other, telling yourself that was enough. That you did a splendid job as parents, claiming you've done everything you can. But you didn't. Nathan felt worthless, like an unwanted child. He so desperately needed the approval, love and support of his parents but they were never there for him!"

Sadness clouded her mother's features, her hand which held a handkerchief trembled when she pleaded with her daughter. "Don't do this, Krissi. Now you're being unfair and you know it."

Kristine's words were undercut by the venom dripping from her bitter voice. "All I know is that you've abandoned your only son. And that's all I have to say about this mess. God, I can't wait to get back to Brazil. I can't stand this hypocrisy any longer!"

"I expect nothing less from you, Kristine. You're just a coward. Running away from your duties and responsibilities is all you can do, isn't it? Why am I not surprised?" Sean asked, clearly provoking her yet his daughter just ignored him, acting as if she didn't hear him.

Mark cleared his throat and tried to be a mediator between the family members, suggesting in a soft voice. "Maybe we should all try to calm down again and get some rest? The past is the past and we can't change it. What really matters is that we support Nathan now. And I hope he'll get better soon and comes back to Blackwell Academy. Everyone misses him."

"I seriously doubt that, Mark. Nathan won't go anywhere anymore." Sean clarified, his tone flat and without any signs of emotion.

"I don't understand. What do you mean by that?" Mark wanted to know, taking a few steps towards his old friend.

"Well, the neurosurgeon specialist who is currently treating my son told me that it's a miracle that Nathan even managed to survive his neck injury. However, due to its severity his airway is seriously affected and he suffered a great blood loss too. The worst part though is the cerebral hemorrhage. According to the expert one half of Nathan's brain is dead now. Even if he ever wakes up from his coma, he'll never be the same again." Sean Prescott informed them, putting his right hand in his trouser pocket and looking like someone who was still trying to digest these bad news.

Mark seemed at a loss for words. This new surprising piece of information didn't satisfy him emotionally. On the contrary, it was more like a feeling of regret that overcame him. The boy was apparently as good as dead now and Mark didn't even have to lift a single finger to craft his doom. It felt like leaving off the finishing retouches of a photo. Not a fulfilling feeling at all.

Still, he tried to savor what small satisfaction he could in the thought that Nathan wouldn't be a threat anymore.

After a few moments of silence he replied sadly. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Sean. If you need anything..."

The older man shook his head and assured him. "It's okay. I've contacted some of the best neurosurgeons in this country who specialize in the field of brain surgery. If anyone can save my son, it's them."

"I see." Mark nodded understandingly, though in his brown eyes there floated not a speck of sympathy.

"And what will you do if no one can help Nathan? Will you just turn off the machines and let him die?" Kris wanted to know and bit her bottom lip, tears glistening in her eyes.

Sean's eyes shifted away from his daughter and he murmured absentmindedly. "As head of this family I _will do_ what's necessary."

"Yes, I can already _picture that_. I know you, dad. You wouldn't want to waste your precious money on a son who will never wake up again. It's not a worthwhile investment, isn't it? Or imagine the other possible scenario... If he ever wakes up from his coma someday, he'll always be a vegetable who can't carry on your precious legacy. Both possibilities are undesired outcomes for you, aren't they?"

She sighed and went on, paying no mind to the loud sobs of her mother. "We both know what's undoubtedly going to happen now. There's no need to keep up appearances here."

"I've no idea what you're implying, Kristine." Sean told her dryly, not even bothering to look at her and staring at a replica of an old Monet painting instead.

She let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, right, dad. _What the fuck ever_ is what Nathan would say to you now."

There was an edge in his voice now as he warned her. "Watch your mouth, young lady. This is neither the right place nor the right time for such offensive behavior."

"Oh, give me a break! I'm not a fucking kid anymore!" Kristine hissed, her voice an octave louder now.

"Krissi, please listen to your father. Honestly, we're all at the end of our nerves here. Why don't you go out... eat a snack or get some fresh air, dear?" Caroline Prescott asked pleadingly, obviously not wanting to see her husband and daughter fight each other.

Kris sighed, seemingly tired of this whole conversation. "What a wonderful idea, Carol. I'm sure your buddy Mark Jefferson here won't mind to accompany me, right?"

The young woman stared at the art teacher, her dark blue eyes challenging him.

Mark paused a moment to lock eyes with her and answered in a terribly gentle voice. "But of course, Miss Prescott. It would be my pleasure to join you."

* * *

They walked down the brightly polished corridor side by side, their slow footsteps echoing quietly in the hallway.

Mark noticed her dismissive stance which felt like an invisible wall between them. Trying to relieve the tension, he addressed her in a curious tone. "I'm afraid your parents don't tend to talk much about you. I'd say I know all about your brother but you...", he paused and looked at her with deep interest as he went on. "You, Kristine Prescott, you seem to be an enigma."

She rolled her eyes at that and repeated. "An enigma?"

"Well...", he began and winked at her. "All this secrecy leads me to believe that you must _hide_ something. You aren't a secret intelligence service 00 agent by any chance?"

Kristine snorted. "Nothing of that sort. I work at the Peace Corps in Brazil. We help people in need, protect the rain forest, save endangered animal species and plants. In a nutshell, it's all the things my father would never do in his life. Also, _because_ I'm doing all this _useless_ stuff as Sean likes to call it, I don't deserve to call myself a Prescott anymore. In his eyes I'm just a crazy hippie and nothing more. But unlike him I just can't stand by and watch our world go to shit like that. I want to help. It's not much but it's all I can do."

The older man smiled at her. "So you're a true environmental activist. That's quite admirable at this young age. Really, I'm impressed."

The penetrating dark blue eyes of Kristine Prescott seemed to size him up as she remarked. "I'm nothing special. But you on the other hand... you're different. Sean loves to praise you in the highest terms, doesn't he? I never receive such compliments from him and it makes me wonder... What's so _great_ about an old fashion photographer anyway?"

' _My, my, this woman doesn't mince her words. Does she?_ ' Mark thought and irritation was beginning to boil up all through his body. Usually, they would all fall for his hip, chill and cool presence and would always let their guard down around him. He was used to hear everyone speak in an excited tone or gush over him and his work. Not this girl though. Kris was different.

There was a moment of silence and Mark chose his next words very carefully, trying to act humble. "Your father is clearly exaggerating here. My glorious and exciting days in the spotlight are long gone. However, I took this job as teacher at Blackwell to pass on my knowledge to future generations. That's why I like to believe that Sean appreciates my counsel and help in this matter. When I met Nathan for the first time your brother told me about his dream, his aspiration to become a professional photographer. He showed great interest in my art and wanted to follow in my footsteps. So I took it upon myself to become his private tutor, assisting him to pursue his artistic vision."

A smile broke through the perfectly engineered calm as he added, obvious admiration in his soft voice now. "And I truly believe your brother has a _gift_ , Kristine. He's one of the best students I ever had the pleasure to work with at Blackwell."

A hint of a frown crossed her face and she murmured. "I know that Nathan has talent. I've seen his photos."

"There's one thing that bothers me though, Mr. Jefferson." It looked to him as if she was trying to apply pressure now, narrowing her eyes as she went on. "You both worked so closely together all this time. Did it ever occur to you that Nathan might need something else than simple photography lessons to get better? I'm sure you've noticed my brother's problems too. His mental state of health was no state secret at Blackwell. What I'm trying to say is, I think you've a great responsibility as his teacher and yet you did nothing. Isn't that so?"

For a couple of steps he seemed to digest what she had just said. His smile faded and his expression turned serious. His words were partly performance and partly genuine when he answered in a sad tone. "Yes, I was aware of his mental issues. As was Principal Wells and all the other members of the faculty. Still, you should keep in mind that I'm only his teacher, not his psychiatrist. I tried to support him to the best of my ability. I always encouraged him to take his meds, warned him to stay away from any drugs and also offered him photography as a form of therapy. Different exercises to keep him grounded in reality."

He noted her skeptical expression and continued in a grave voice. "You see, even I could sense Nate's descent into madness. How he was slipping further and further away from us. This was a point of great concern to me. To us all, in fact."

Another two steps of silence and the young woman snorted in response. "With all due respect to your work, you must realize that photography can never replace a professional therapy session. I'm aware that my dad is an idiot. He never took it all seriously. But you on the other hand... you look like an intelligent guy to me, Mark. Don't tell me you really believe this nonsense...", she grimaced and made a dismissive gesture with her hand, "like art being the ultimate cure for Nathan's lost soul." Kristine almost spat those last words, the anger in her voice unmasked and her antipathy toward him clearly shining through.

Mark forced himself to remain calm and clarified with an air of strained patience. "I see you're questioning my teaching methods, Miss Prescott. Yet I can assure you that my approach worked. Nate was really feeling better in these past few months and, above all, his condition was stable most of the time."

Kristine stopped in her tracks and shook her head, scoffing. "If Nathan was stable, as you claim, why did he shoot this girl then? That doesn't look like stable behavior to me."

His face was under careful control when he shrugged, suppressing a grimace. "I've no idea why your brother did what he did, attacking another student of our school like that. Believe me, I'm just as confused about his erratic reaction as you are. I fear the only one who can give an answer to your question is Nathan himself."

"Oh, please, don't make me laugh. You know as well as I do that we won't get any answers from him anymore." Kristine snapped loudly, almost rolling her eyes at him. He had the impression that his cool and controlled demeanor had also provoked an aggressive mood in her now.

Mark's lips compressed to a tight line and in his voice there seemed to be a note of something like sympathy and understanding. "Look, I know that you're going through a lot at the moment. And I want you to know how sorry I am about what happened to your brother. Truly, it saddens me greatly to see him like that. But I have a feeling you're directing your anger at the wrong person here. If you feel the need to blow off some steam, you should pick another target. _Not me_."

That didn't work one bit. On the contrary, his words only seemed to peeve her more. Kristine's expression held animosity and the muscles in her cheeks were twitching as if she couldn't contain her annoyance any longer. "The _wrong person_ , huh? Do you think I'm _blind_?"

The older man gave her a perplexed look. "What do you mean? I don't understand..."

She had one hand resting on her hip now, her eyebrows forming an arch of displeasure as she skewered him with a sharp glare. "My dad only cares about power, money and reputation. That's probably the reason why he can't see the bigger picture like I do. But I know exactly _what you are_ , Mr. Jefferson."

Mark cocked his head sideways and the right corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly as he asked her, amusement coloring his tone. "Oh? Pray tell. What exactly _am I_ , Miss Prescott?"

"You're nothing but a _parasite_." Kris replied, her dark blue eyes glinting as she went on. "You _used_ my little brother to get your hands on our precious money just like all those other bloodsuckers did before you. And it also worked in your favor that my brother was in such a sorry state. Nate depended on you, didn't he? I can already imagine how you took advantage of him, using him for your so-called photography lectures."

Mark walked past her wordlessly and approached a coffee machine now, acting seemingly unimpressed as he made himself a cup of coffee.

His brown eyes watched the dark, hot liquid slowly filling the plastic cup. Kristine's way of putting it had rubbed him the wrong way. Did she know something? And if yes, could she become a potential threat then? Although this woman was slowly getting on his nerves, he couldn't help but be impressed by her. Unlike her foolish brother there lurked a sharp mind behind Kristine's pretty face. Maybe she could even see through his facade. It seemed she had an obvious talent to read people, to assess them. In another time and in another place she might have been a formidable protégé. A strong, capable and trustworthy partner. Not so fragile and weak like her younger brother Nathan.

But here and now, he had to be careful. This clearly wasn't someone who literally hung on his every word, someone who wasn't affected by how each and every syllable sounded so eloquent and smooth off his tongue. No, this one here wouldn't be fooled by his smooth talk. Kristine was no moron and she couldn't be so easily manipulated like Nate.

Mark Jefferson turned around and his fingertips pinched his bearded chin, the surface of his black coffee reflecting the uncertain outline of his upper body. Even when put on defense he remained calm, his voice losing none of its composure. "I must say, you do have a lively imagination, Miss Prescott."

The woman moved a step closer, leaning slightly forward as though she were sharing a secret. "Come on, drop the act already. I did some research, you know? I found out all about your lovely underground bunker, or should I say _photography studio_?"

Mark didn't miss that look in her eyes. Dark blue orbs that eagerly seemed to await his next reaction. His reply must have felt disappointing to her because he only chuckled lightly in response, explaining in a neutral tone. "Ah yes, the studio. That was actually Nathan's idea. As you know he was rather shy. He didn't want his classmates and friends to know about his strange _hobby_. That's why we chose the bunker as our photography classroom. So what? It's no secret at all and we also had your father's approval."

"Yeah, dad just threw his money out to your little endeavor and never checked or asked any questions what you guys were actually doing down there. Perhaps I should give the police a small pointer to investigate your involvement in all of this. Because right now you seem to be the most suspicious person to me. We both know that David Madsen can't be the one the police is looking for. A security guard? Come on, it's bullshit! That guy had no interest in photography at all. Unlike _you_." Kristine concluded, eyeing him with narrowed eyes.

On the surface he remained calm in the face of this accusation but inside he was seething. Smiling thinly, his voice had lost none of its cool self-possession as he countered. "Clearly, you've watched way too many crime shows. Your accusations are nothing but baseless claims. A childish fantasy fabricated by a young woman who isn't older than twenty."

She grinned in return, seemingly enjoying this conversation immensely. "Ouch, look at that. Someone is angry now. It seems I've touched a sore spot here. Well, I want some answers. And I have a strong feeling that you know _something_. So, listen up. You have two options now. You either continue to play your fake role as the innocent art teacher and I'll inform the police what I found out about your secret studio. Or...", Kris paused purposefully and gave him the time to let everything sink in before she went on,"you actually cooperate and help me find the truth."

A look of satisfaction appeared on her face now, as if she had finally played her hand of cards at the right moment, asking him in a demanding tone. "So, what will it be, hmmm? Ah, can you hear it? The clock is ticking... Tick-tock, tick-tock, your time is almost up. I'm waiting for an answer, Mr. I'm-so-super-famous-artsy-fartsy-photography teacher."

For a fleeting second an uncharacteristic look of unease had flashed across his face and he had to think long and hard about the direction going forward. That was no empty threat and Kristine was sure to make a move. On that point Mark harbored no doubt whatsoever.

A cold glint like that of a shard of ice sheltered in his brown eyes as he regarded her, thinking about a countermeasure. His voice wasn't really as composed as it appeared to be when he announced in a voice far colder than zero degrees. "Oh, don't you worry. You'll get your answers soon enough, Kristine. Though I fear you won't like them."

"I'm willing to take that risk, thank you very much for your concern." She replied in a sarcasm-spiced tone, glancing at him with a sort of look that was trying to penetrate his real intentions.

A sound of distant thunder was beginning to roar at the back of his mind. Mark became aware of a sick feeling eating away at his nerves. The kind he got right before he realized that some dirty trick had just been played on him. He had to be careful now. One misstep and things would likely spin out of control. He couldn't predict what she would do nor was there an infallibly correct move he could make.

' _Should I get rid of her? Or would that be too hasty and draw unnecessary attention to me?'_ He asked himself in his thoughts. For a moment he was paralyzed by indecision. A state he was unaccustomed to. Should he leave the matter alone and just ignore it or should he act? In his mind he calmly made his calculations and took the best possible route to his goal. If that meant eliminating certain obstacles in his path he would do so without hesitation whatsoever.

But for now he decided to keep an eye on her, to find out what she knew or didn't know about the dark room.

"So, what's our next step?" She asked impatiently, arching an eyebrow.

"We'll both pay a visit to your brother's dorm room tonight. Trust me, that place holds the answer to all your questions." Mark assured her, taking a sip of his warm coffee and acting as if her earlier accusations didn't faze him at all.

 _'Now, I'm curious, my dear. Will you take the bait or not?_ ' He wondered in his thoughts and deemed it best to give Kristine Prescott what she wanted. That way he would kill two birds with one stone. First of all he could find out what she knew and point her investigation in another direction. And secondly, he would finally gain access to Nathan's locked room without arousing any suspicion.

"Nathan's room, huh? Interesting choice. So far my dad hasn't allowed the police to search this place. I have a hunch that this can't be a coincidence. All right, then. Let's meet at the dormitories at 10 pm, okay?" Kristine suggested, looking rather hopeful now.

Mark bent forward, his mouth at her ear, whispering teasingly. "Please don't be late, Kristine. You should know I'm a very busy man."

The younger woman just glared at him, her reaction pleasing him to no end. But he didn't have time to enjoy their banter any longer as his ears picked up the sound of loud footfalls, causing him to turn around now.

Someone was obviously running through the corridor, in a hurry to reach them.

A slight frown creased his forehead and he decided to leave now. "Please excuse me, Kristine. That must be one of those autograph hunters. This hospital is full of them. I'll see you tonight then."

"Whatever, Mr. Jefferson." Kristine commented and pulled a wry face, her dark blue eyes trailing after him as he walked away.

The sound of footsteps drew closer. To his surprise he soon bumped into a nurse as he went around a corner. It was one of those nurses who he got to know here during his many visits to the hospital. Her name was Martha and she was actually one of the few good souls at Arcadia General. Someone who strove to help out others. A person who was easily manipulated by him, or rather his irresistible charm. After running all this way she was clearly exhausted, panting and quickly brushing a stray lock of red hair away from her forehead.

"Mr. Jefferson! It's Maxine Caulfield!" The young nurse puffed, still trying to catch her breath.

" _Maxine Caulfield_?" Mark repeated slowly, already fearing the worst. His worries filled him with a dread that was akin to an icy chill, numbing his brain. He took on a still, frozen appearance, one that brought to mind a man sculpted from ice.

Then the sculpture finally spoke as life returned to him, asking in a concerned tone. "What happened, Martha? Is Max okay?"

The nurse gave a quick nod and gesticulated wildly with her hands, explaining. "Yes, yes, she's well. She woke up from her coma just a few hours ago and Doc Dawson already did a checkup. You're allowed to visit her if you want."

Mark looked at her with an open mouth, his mind still processing the meaning of her words. It felt as if thousands pounds of weight had been lifted off of him.

' _Max is okay... She's really okay. And I can see her... now?'_ It shot through his mind, not being able to contain that feeling of relief that was bubbling up inside of him.

"I don't know what to say, Martha. I'm so relieved. Thank you for coming here and telling me this. You're a true angel." He let out a breath sharp in its relief and almost painful in its intensity, fighting the sudden urge to fling his arms around her neck to show his gratitude. All this pent up emotion that was boiling inside of him only waiting to find release.

"See? I promised you that you didn't need to worry about her." She told him with a smile.

"I know, I know. But I'm her teacher, I can't stop being worried about my students. That's part of my job." Mark replied in a serious tone.

"Anyway, I think you should visit her soon. She'll definitely feel a lot better when she sees a familiar face." Martha suggested and remarked. "And don't forget your promise, okay? A black and white portrait of me in your gorgeous Mark Jefferson style? That's what you said, honey."

Mark nodded, his brown eyes almost shining. "Of course, I'll give you the best portrait you've ever seen, ma chère. That's the least I can do after all you did for my student."

The other woman smiled from ear to ear, obviously looking forward to their photography session before turning on her heel, obviously in a hurry to return to her ward now.

His fingers absentmindedly tapped his coffee cup like playing the keys of a piano. Inside his mind his thoughts were already wandering to his upcoming meeting with Max. First Mark would need to make a little detour to the hospital gift shop. What would Max prefer? A gift basket? A stuffed animal? Perhaps a flower bouquet? Choosing a gift wasn't really his forte because he always tended to overthink stuff.

' _Max had a teddy bear in her dorm room. Maybe I should get her one of those?_ ' He thought and began to walk through the hallway at a brisk pace, excited to reunite with his loved one.

* * *

Mark Jefferson felt warmth rise within his chest, it spread throughout his entire body as his brown eyes found hers. His mind blocked out the unsightly environment and the grim atmosphere, ignoring the distracting beep sounds of the medical machines and the unpleasant smell of cleaners and antiseptics hanging in the air.

No, right here and now only Max existed. To him the prolonged wait to see her again finally found its crescendo. The evening sun was shimmering through the autumn leaves and was slowly beginning to sink beneath the horizon, casting a deep burning glow across the sky, red colors blending with rich hues of orange, yellow and crimson.

Low streams of golden light poured through the large hospital windows, its glow accentuating the contours of Max's face. She was radiating in that shower of natural light, her entire appearance appealing to his eye with a dreamlike effect. This was a breathtaking sight, a treasured view reserved for his eyes only. Once again Mark felt captivated by this sun goddess, his Sól, his Amaterasu. Her sun encased image would forever be imprinted in his mind.

His intent eyes followed the light playing beautifully on her face and he admired the constellation of stars etched there in the freckles of her face, dotting and darting across her features, little marks dipping over the ridge of her nose. This picture was like a painting, it was enough to take his breath away. He could practically feel the depths of his soul shivering.

' _Oh, Max. Your beauty alone can put a sculpture to shame_. _You're truly a breathing work of art_.' Mark thought and whispered. " _Max_."

He seemed to be in a trance, his glazed eyes still lingering on hers.

Max could feel her own fatigue melt like frost in the sun. Color filled her cheeks and deep warmth engulfed her chest, unfolding further under his ardent stare. That was the effect Mark had on her as she noticed an intensity in his gaze that was hard to resist. Like an artist who cherished everything about her, who was mesmerized by her beauty and the weight of her being. For long moments the music of silence played in the room. It all felt like a fleeting instant of quiet stillness, both being completely lost in the moment.

He seemed to regard her for what seemed like forever, his brown eyes unbearably intense and clear in their focus. A wave of longing swept over her, a sensation of feeling starved of touch, as if her body itself was trying to pull towards him. Only a few steps separated them but to her it felt as though he was miles away from her.

"Mark, you're here." She breathed in a low voice, still wondering if he was real or another one of her daydreams. Suddenly, everything that had happened came flooding back, like water gushing from a broken dam. This fear of death, this worry that she would close her eyes and never see him again. There were tears shimmering in her eyes now, her hands starting to tremble. It was as if all emotions inside her were coming together, overwhelming her.

Mark could feel their strong bond again, their powerful connection, that all consuming chemistry between them. Nathan had tried to take her away from him and that unpleasant feeling still haunted him in the back of his mind. Max didn't have the slightest inkling how much she had changed him. The sacrifice he had made for her, giving up his dark room to protect their shared future. Despite all the scars on his soul and all the secrets he had revealed to her she still loved him unconditionally.

Therefore he swore that this time he would do anything in his power to keep her safe. Whatever the cost, he would be there for her and protect her. Even with his own life, if need be.

Never had the art teacher experienced such a level of affection. As Mark came closer he couldn't help but being intrigued by her eyes. Eyes so clear that if he stared long enough into them, he could see to the very depths of whatever was hidden beneath that ocean of pure blue.

"I've never experienced so much fear in my life, Max. I thought I had lost you and that thought truly scared me." He admitted with sadness in his voice, feeling the heat sting his eyelids. The thick bandages which covered his muse's chest area were clearly visible under her hospital gown, reminding him once again how close he had been to losing her.

Something in his words sent a chill down her spine. She could sense the depth of emotion in every single word. It felt as though his mask had cracked and Max could get a glimpse of the loneliness concealed underneath.

Max was aware that she probably looked weak and fragile to him right now, so she tried her best to appear strong, holding back the tears as she assured him. "I'm here, Mark. You haven't lost me."

Although a shadow hadn't vanished entirely from his pained face, it did seem as though a shaft of sunlight had broken through the fog, the line of his lips bending slightly into a hint of a smile.

"I've failed to protect you. But I swear it'll never happen again." Mark promised her, his voice trembling with emotion.

"What happened to me...", she paused and looked deep into his eyes as she made clear, "It wasn't your fault."

He shook his head, taking another step towards her and closing the distance between them. "Still, I can't shake off this feeling that I should have done _something_. Nathan was _my_ student, _my_ _responsibility_."

" _Was_?" Max asked in a surprised tone, still knowing nothing about Nathan's current condition.

"He's in a coma but the doctors doubt he'll ever wake up again." Mark explained and once again felt absolutely nothing when he contemplated the fate of his former protégé.

"I-I see." She murmured, gazing at the windows now, her mind still trying to process this new information.

Mark pulled out a chair to sit down next to her bed, worry clouding his facial features. "What about _you_? How do you feel?"

Her lips curled slightly up at their edges into a faint smile as she replied. "Not so good. Talking...", she pointed a finger at her chest and went on, "It hurts. And you?"

In response he lifted the front of his white shirt to reveal the wounds strewn on his stomach, murmuring. "Just a few cuts and bruises here and there. But this is _nothing_ compared to your injuries."

Max held a hand in front of her mouth, seemingly in shock. "Oh God, where did you get _that_? What _happened_?"

He let out a deep sigh. "Well, David Madsen _happened_. He found the Prescott barn and although I've tried to talk reasonably with him that idiot wouldn't listen to a word I said. It escalated quickly and he attacked me. We fought and I'm afraid it didn't end well for him."

"What do you mean by that? Don't tell me... Is he... is he _dead_?" The question left her lips reluctantly as if she was somehow fearing his answer, holding her breath until her chest began to ache and threatened to cave in, her eyes wide open.

There was a grimace in his expression, his voice tinged with regret. "Madsen was armed with an army combat knife and tried to stab me. There was no other way. I had to act in self-defense. It was either kill or be killed. I'm truly sorry, Max. Believe me, I didn't want any of this to happen."

And Mark truly meant it. Leaving no traces behind had always been his preferred course of action. At the barn he had considered the option to keep him alive for a minute, toying with the idea to alter his memories with drugs and let him forget everything. But he had been aware that it was too big of a risk. Madsen was one of those men who couldn't forget. He was that kind of guy who wouldn't rest, who wouldn't sleep, who wouldn't give up until he found out what happened to him. The former soldier was like a bloodhound, relentless in his pursuit.

Shock numbed her, his words ringing in her ears. ' _David is dead... What about Joyce... and Chloe? God, they must be devastated now...'_ It immediately shot through her head and she still couldn't quite believe it yet, shaking her head in disbelief and her hands drawing the white sheets more tightly around herself.

"Chloe already lost all her memories and now she also lost her father? I-I don't know what to say. This is so cruel, Mark." Max stammered, the pain audible in her voice.

"Her _step-father_ , if I recall correctly." Mark corrected her and placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch calming her. "Listen, Max. If I had the power to go back in time to change the past, I'd do so without thinking twice. Unfortunately, that's not how life works. We don't get any second chances. Instead we have to live with our decisions and accept the consequences. Just like your friend Chloe, or _you_ did." A sad smile tugged at his lips as he went on. "I'm sure she never wanted to hurt Nathan but she had to. To protect you. Isn't that right?"

Max became silent, casting her eyes downwards and mulling over his words. She had to admit, he had a point there. Maybe all this bloodshed could have been avoided if they had all acted differently. It was even possible that her intervention had been the sole cause why Nathan had lost it at that one moment. Or perhaps Chloe's rejection had been the key element which sent Prescott over the edge. It was hard to say. There were too many critical factors playing a role here. And they all had to cope with the aftermath somehow. It would take months, probably even years to digest all this, to think about all those what if scenarios and to question themselves. Again and again.

"You're right. We all made mistakes here and I was just too blind to see it from another perspective." She groaned and still avoided eye contact. This was all too much to handle in such a short amount of time.

"Shh, it's alright, Max. You did the right thing. You saved your friend from harm and that's all that matters. You're a _true hero_." His hand left her shoulder and he caressed the side of her face now, the pad of his thumb gently brushing over her cheek.

Max looked up and on her lips appeared a weak smile that was like an expanse of fading light as she mumbled in response. "I don't feel heroic at all though."

"You're _my_ _hero_ , okay? You did what felt right to you. Didn't you?" His head tilted slightly to the side, his deep brown eyes searching hers.

"I _tried_." She croaked with a constricted throat, her sight blurred as tears brimmed in her eyes. There was no way to stop her body from shuddering now, curling in on herself she began to sob. Tears were streaming from her blue eyes now, trailing down her cheeks. Tears which she couldn't hold back any longer.

' _You did everything you could, Super Max. You accomplished your mission. Chloe is alive. She's safe._ ' The young student reminded herself and a glimpse of a memory resurfaced in her eyes, an image of a happy Chloe wearing her pirate outfit clouding her sight.

A startled gasp escaped her mouth as she suddenly felt his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close into a gentle hug. The familiar aroma of his sandalwood cologne enveloped her, blending with a faint scent of coffee. She could feel her own body sink into the comfort of his hold, his inviting warmth surrounding her, covering her and melting away all the sadness, concerns and worries that weighed so heavy on her heart. Max felt so very still in his arms, like a lake in the silence. Her fingers instinctively grasped his suit jacket, not wanting to let go again. This was how it was meant to be. She couldn't deny the sensation of how good it felt to be together like this, how right it felt.

"I've dreamt of _you_... And now you're here." She breathed with her cheek pressed against his torso, allowing her body to relax in his embrace, her tense muscles slowly becoming loose.

"Ah, always a dreamer, aren't you, Max?" He remarked, amusement coloring his tone.

Max could feel his hands lightly brushing over her back as though he was very careful not to hurt her or to worsen her injuries.

"I hope it was a good dream." Mark whispered suggestively into her hair while listening to the soft hum of her breathing as his smooth fingers raked through her short hair. Her head shifted and rested on his shoulder now and he in return savored the sensation of holding her like this, feeling the weight of her, how her slender body nestled closely in his arms.

"Now that you mention dreams...", he began, his voice all of a sudden taking on a serious tone, "I'm afraid I had to give up my own not so long ago. I had to set the dark room on fire."

Did she hear that right? Max couldn't believe what he had just told her and pulled away abruptly, casting a shocked look at him. "You did _what_? _Why_? Why did you do _that_?"

"For _us_. For _our future_. This place belonged to Nathan Prescott and I feared he would use it as evidence against me. I couldn't let that happen. Not now, where I finally have you in my life. _You and me_ , Max. I didn't want to lose _this_." Mark confessed, resting his hand atop hers.

"But what about all your equipment? All your photography work? You destroyed it all...," her voice trailed off and she became speechless, needing more than just a moment to comprehend the full extent of his loss, only slowly realizing what this sacrifice truly meant to him.

"You burned everything... ", She repeated flabbergasted, staring at him with wide eyes and asking him again, wondering if she had misunderstood him there, wanting to hear some kind of confirmation because it just felt so unreal to her. "For _us_? For _me_?"

"It was a price I was willing to pay... For _you_. I hope you can now understand how much you really mean to me, Max. And what I'm willing to forsake for _you_." Mark explained, his voice thick with emotion and a longing in his dark eyes as if they seemed to burn through his glasses, straight into her soul.

Max gulped, her mouth opening and closing several times. She was dumbfounded and couldn't find the right words to express what she felt right now, stammering. "Wowsers. Honestly, I-I can't, I-I don't know what to say. I mean this was _your_ photography, _your_ vision. You can't just abandon it like that. It's years of work, right?"

He went silent for a minute, inclining his head in contemplation. "Yes...yes, it is.", he acknowledged, his voice sounding lower than before as he clarified, "But don't worry. Not everything is lost. The binders, my equipment, my notes, yes, they're all gone. But not the original raw files I kept on my backup drive at home. As you know, pictures like your polaroids may someday vanish and disappear, but digital photography will last forever. The difficult task, however, will be to recreate my binders. It's months of struggle, of effort and above all time which went into my project. I'd almost say I don't have the patience and also the strength to do it all over again. So I think I'll treasure what remains of my art and look forward to the future instead. _Our future together_. And I'm sure I'll achieve even greater shots, with you by my side... As my _muse_."

He leaned in closer, the color of his brown eyes turning darker as he soaked up the sight of her, his thumb tracing the bone of her wrist and his voice dropping to a lower, more seductive tone. "I can't wait to see you through my lens again, Max. It will be... _perfect_."

Her cheeks burned scarlet as she stared into the deep pools of his eyes, her heart feeling as if it were going to implode. "I-I hope I can fulfill your expectations."

"Oh Max, you've already exceeded them. But enough of me. Your nurses asked me to encourage you to drink more water. According to them it'll help against the pain. And after all our talking here you might really need that now." With that he grabbed the nearest bottle and opened it, pouring some water into one of her glasses.

"Here, try this." He offered her the glass and watched her patiently as she took small sips.

A worried expression was on his face when he remarked. "I wish I could do more to help you."

"You're here, Mark. That alone makes me feel better."

"Well, if you say so. Though I'm fairly certain I can also provide _other ways_ to help you feel better." He winked at her and gave her that smug smile that she already knew so well by now.

The liquid caught in her throat and Max coughed loudly. All of a sudden vivid images of their night together overpowered her mind. The passionate look in his eyes, his fiery touch on her naked skin, the flame of his burning desire.

His hand was on her back now, patting her softly."Whoa, careful there, Max. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I-I guess I just drank too fast." She quickly mumbled, feeling her own cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you." He handed her a get well card, signed by all students of their photography class.

Her eyes studied the card and she could recognize signatures of Daniel, Dana, Hayden, Alyssa, Taylor, Stella or Evan. Kate even added a sweet drawing of a little raccoon with a ' _Get well soon_ ' speech bubble above his head. Another pleasant surprise was a signature of Warren who also added a ' _Im so sorry, Max. I'll be there if you need me_.' message underneath his name.

That message alone was enough to make her happy. After all her worries and fears that she might have lost Warren as friend forever, his words gave her new hope again. But her eyes narrowed again when she recognized the elegant handwriting of a certain pixie-haired girl.

"Wowser, are you kidding me? Even Victoria signed _this_? Must have been her good clone." She commented bluntly, her expression turning into a frown as she read Victoria's text, rolling her eyes at that. ' _Gosh, she even added a quote by the Dalai Lama. Seriously, Victoria?'_

 _~Choose to be optimistic, it feels better.~_

 _'Why, thanks, Miss Vortex Club, that's really uplifting. I immediately feel better now_.'

He watched her reaction and noted. "I think deep down she cares about you. Of course, she would never say so openly."

"Uh huh." Max only muttered at that, not believing in Victoria's change of heart for one, tiny second.

"Anyway, I have something for you too. I remember your old teddy was in quite a bad shape so I thought you might need a new one." He gave her a cute, black mini-teddy bear and added. "There was also a pink version of this little fella. But pink is...", he cleared his throat and murmured. "Well, let's just say there are certain lines even I don't dare to cross. Especially if the matter involves colors."

She couldn't help but giggle at that although it really hurt to do so, feeling her chest immediately tightening in pain. This was another side of him she loved so much. A cheerful, funny side which always made her laugh.

Shaking her head she playfully nudged his arm. "You're impossible. Do you know _that_?"

There was that familiar smirk playing on his lips again as he simply stated. "I know."

"Speaking of me, I'd like us both to delve deeper into the subject of my treatment idea. It's a therapy which I've developed especially for you.", Mark made a purposeful pause and then clarified, "Though it does require some privacy of course. So I'm afraid you have to wait till we get back to my house where I shall take good care of you, okay?"

Max moved her hand up to brush a loose strand of brown hair away from her forehead, wetting her lips nervously. "Uh, can't you do it _now_? You, uhm, want to make me feel better, don't you?"

Mark chuckled, seemingly amused by her suggestion. "It seems I have a _bad influence_ on you, Maxine."

The hospital wasn't really the right place to do that. Too many people, too many eyes that weren't supposed to see them like that. That was the reason why Mark Jefferson had tried to keep a respectable distance between them although maintaining that level of self-control became harder and harder in her presence.

"That's how innocence evolves into corruption, right?" Max jested even though she was unable to hide her obvious disappointment on her face, her lips almost turning into a pout.

He sighed and swept the glasses off his face, rubbing at his eyes before talking in a sad voice. "I'm sorry, Max. But I have to be extra careful here. If anyone would see us... you _know_ what would happen then. My job and reputation are at stake here."

Max heaved a sigh and held his teddy bear gift tighter in her hands, not wanting to see him leave her like that. A hug wasn't enough, couldn't be enough. There was no way in hell to resist this temptation to want, to feel more of him. Yes, she was aware that this was a really bad idea. That it was foolish to even think about it but she couldn't help herself. She missed Mark and felt so lonely and cold without him. As if a vital part had been lacking in her life.

 _'Okay, Super Max. Are you sure you want to do this? He's your teacher and you're his student. If anyone would catch us, it would mean major trouble for both of us_.' It ran through her thoughts.

"Yeah, I know. I just thought..." She began again, chewing on her bottom lip and searching for the right words.

Mark cocked his head sideways and ran a hand through his tousled, unruly hair, murmuring. "Christ, look what you're doing to me. How can I ever deny _that face_?"

He came closer once more and stroked her cheek gently with the back of his hand, a smile adorning his lips while his intent eyes never left hers. With gentle reverence, his gaze moved from her eyes down to her lips. Like a photographer who meticulously studied the features of his model, trying to admire all of her through sight alone.

His touch was so soft, yet so burning. It was enough to make her skin tingle and heat up simultaneously.

A thrill of anticipation shot through her now. Her breathing instantly quickening as his index finger brushed against the edge of her neck. Mark looked at her with an obvious longing in his gaze, his eyes drawing her soul to his. They held a silent request, asking her to surrender to him, to this very moment. At that one instant she caught a glimpse of her own flushed complexion reflected in his glasses.

This was the image of her that he saw right now. Another picture forever engraved in his mind. The air became seemingly charged with electricity. It felt like a maddening pressure between them. A sexual tension similar to an irresistible, gravitational pull. A pull she couldn't resist anymore. She knew so well by now how much Mark enjoyed to do this. To let her wait like this, to prolong this sweet torture until she couldn't bear it any longer.

 _'Two can play that game_.' The young woman thought and lifted one hand, letting her fingertips deliberately slide down his chest. Max could feel her own heartbeat kick up a notch when she moved even lower, down towards his abdomen. Her reward was a low sound of his sharp inhale when her exploration went further, her fingers trailing his defined abs through the fabric of his white shirt, sensing how the muscles contracted at her touch.

His brown eyes had followed her motions with a strange fascination and now locked with hers, appreciating how her blue eyes seemed to shimmer in excitement with the evening sunlight.

His next words poured smoothly from his lips, dripping with desire. "Let's call this an _appetizer_ of your upcoming treatment session then, shall we?"

Time seemed to come to a sudden halt when he pulled her close in one fluid motion and leaned down, one of his hands cupping her chin to angle her head while his other hand moved around her to travel down the line of her back, sensing her warmth underneath her gown.

"I've missed you _so much_ , Max." Mark whispered, barely audible, his warm breath on her mouth and his long fingers fluttering over her jaw.

"And I missed you." She exhaled, warmth radiating through her in ripples, delightfully prickling.

Max felt her body succumb to his affections as she instinctively leaned into his caress. She couldn't help but melt into him, overpowered by the most overwhelming, tantalizing shivers as he carefully observed all of her reactions. Her pulse started to race like crazy as his soft lips descended upon hers, claiming her lips in what seemed like an impossibly slow motion. His lips brushed slowly against her own, enclosing the upper and then the lower lip, nibbling them tenderly. After such a long time their kiss wasn't demanding, scorching or fierce. No, much to her own surprise it was tender, sweet and exploratory instead. Almost as delicate and chaste as their first kiss. Both of them took their time to savor this sensation, this electricity in the merest brush of their lips, remembering the feel of the other.

After another press of his lips against hers he began to deepen the contact with the smooth touch of his tongue. It started with him seeking an invitation, the tip of his tongue patiently sliding along her lower lip. Finally parting her lips and urging them apart his hot tongue lingered within her for a moment, relishing in the feel of her as Max moaned into his mouth. His brown eyes were half lidded and dilated with lust now, delivering kiss after kiss. Each one growing more and more passionate and rapturous than the last one as their lips sought and found each other. Again and again. His lips connected and clung to hers like a starving lover, hungry for more. Both felt that pulsing intoxication, that irresistible magic between them, being completely lost in a sensual dance of their tongues twirling together with mingled breaths.

Max could feel all of him. The overwhelming heat emanating from his body, the intensity of his strong, masculine presence, his close proximity, his ravenous touch, the smell of his cologne and the fire of their passionate kiss. A kiss which was only the beginning, the unspoken promise of much more to come, knowing she would soon experience the full extent of his desire.

Some parts of her body had suddenly taken on a rather liquid quality as if they were made of hot pudding. It was a feeling like drowning in a sea of bliss. Each single kiss resonated through her whole body, sending her stomach fluttering wildly. The young woman could feel a warmth rising within her. It spread throughout her entire body, firing through each and every nerve like a rush of energy. There was no more pain in her chest. All she felt was a smoldering and all consuming heat, a heady sensation igniting something deep within her.

It seemed he was straying close to the boundaries of his usually perfect self control as he forced himself to part from her lips, his own body seemingly burning with the same fervor as hers.

"Your heart must beat a lot faster now. I wonder...", Mark breathed against her neck and gave her a wicked smirk, "if I can make your heart beat even faster... _here_." He purred seductively, one hand tangling in her hair and his brown eyes becoming somewhat glassy now, in his expression the satisfaction of an artist who admired the beauty and perfection of his work. Fingertips brushed against the back of her skin in feathery touches and Max felt like being completely under his spell, watching how the red light of the sunset bathed his body in a crimson glow, giving him a mysterious and captivating aura.

She swallowed nervously as he bent down once more, so close that she could smell his delicious cologne again. In a gesture so maddeningly erotic he deeply inhaled the fragrance of her skin and began to pepper her with excruciatingly slow and teasing kisses along her jawline down to her throat. Max instinctively dug her fingers into the sheets, feeling her pulse thump wildly in her abdomen.

Soon his tongue joined his lips, licking and nibbling a hot trail across the smooth expanse of her skin. All she could do was let the sensations surge through her, enjoying the feeling of him on her skin. How he made her body shiver like that, his careful and light touches leaving tremors in her system.

Then she could feel his smile, a satisfied hum reaching her ears when he found the spot he'd been searching for. His tongue flicked out to brush over her throbbing artery, sensing her rushing pulse, her pounding heart pumping blood underneath her skin. Her quiet moans and whimpers filled the room now. They were music to his ears, her silent plea for wanting more.

With a maddening tenderness his lips pressed against her earlobe, whispering kisses around its edge. "Shh, quiet, Max. We don't want to alert your nurses now, do we?"

Her response was another breathless whimper of protest and in return his teeth began to graze her sensitive skin now.

Mark's voice adopted a thoughtful quality as his tongue slid over that one delicate spot on her throat, murmuring. "Let's see how quiet you can be if I do _this_."

With that his hand moved down to the small of her back, drawing her a fraction of an inch closer. A small pause followed where he seemed to marvel at how she fitted so perfectly against his chest. Then her heart suddenly jumped and the next thing she felt was his lips capturing hers, greedy, raw and possessive, bruising her mouth with unbound passion. To Max his kiss felt like pressing a switch to turn on the electricity inside her body, setting off fiery charges beneath her skin, rushing down her spine and straight to her core.

She was trembling against him, goosebumps covering her body as she could only moan his name. "M-Mark."

A soft tap at the door caused both of them to stop immediately. Mark was the first to react and quickly disentangled himself from her in one smooth motion, a strange blend of restraint and regret tinting his brown eyes now. His face was rigid with self-control as he adjusted his shirt and suit jacket, sitting down on the chair again while Max was still trying to come back to her senses, still struggling to catch her breath.

He paused to look down at her, pushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Quiet, Max." The calm of his soothing voice seemed to lessen the tension inside her somehow.

It turned out that her parents had just arrived to visit her. Her father Ryan was the first to enter the room, dressed in a bright green jersey of his favorite football team, the Seattle Seahawks. Vanessa Caulfield, on the other hand, wore her favorite Michael Kors clothes, black jeans with a comfy gray knit sweater.

"Oh honey, we came as fast as we could. We were so worried about you." Vanessa said with concern audible in her voice, almost rushing into the hospital room while Ryan just stood at the entrance, one hand stroking his full beard and smiling at his daughter.

"Hey Mom, hi Dad. I'm okay, really." Max assured them, fidgeting restlessly with her hands in her lap. It was more than a little strange to have her parents here, in one room, together with Mark Jefferson.

 _'Oof, great timing, guys. By the way, that older gentleman over there is my teacher and my new boyfriend. Can you believe that? Awesome news, right?_ ' Max thought with a grimace, secretly hoping that she could hide this fact from them for a while longer. It was way too soon to reveal this information and they wouldn't understand. Hopefully after graduation there might be a good opportunity to mention it. But now was just a bad idea and she was fairly certain that Mark felt the same way about it as her.

"See? I've told you she'd be okay. She's a Caulfield after all. The strong blood of our irish ancestors runs through her veins. That and our irish luck, of course." Ryan Caulfield remarked with his loud, booming voice, winking at Max in a cheerful manner as if he was signaling her ' _Don't worry about your Mom. I got this._ '

Max knew that her mother had probably been going crazy because of her worries. Luckily, her dad had always been the opposite, staying solid as a rock in these difficult and uncertain times. Like now, where he seemed so happy to see her, forgetting the concerns he had about his daughter's health and well-being.

Her mother approached her and stared at her bandages for a moment, her voice wavering now. "Oh my, look at you, Maxine. Why do you always have to be so reckless? It's great that you saved Chloe and we're so proud of our Blackwell hero. But still... what you did was _really dangerous_."

Vanessa Caulfield's gaze wandered up to Max's face now, noticing her flushed cheeks and checking her temperature. "Honey, you're _burning_. Do you have a fever? Wait, I call a nurse."

Before she could press the call button Max stopped her by grabbing her wrist, shaking her head. "It's no fever, Mom. It's just a bit hot here. Maybe the heating system isn't set properly, who knows?"

"Now that you mention it, it _is_ indeed warm here. Right, Ryan?" Her mother agreed and her blue eyes met the brown eyes of Mark Jefferson now, only slowly realizing that there was another visitor in this room.

She turned red and apologized quickly. "I'm so, so sorry. Where are my good manners? I'm Vanessa and that's my husband Ryan. We're Maxine's parents."

Mark got up from his seat and inclined his head slightly. Gently he took her hand in his and bent over her, his lips briefly touching the back of her hand to kiss her. His eyes rose to hers as he lifted his head, offering her a charming smile. "Mrs. Caulfield, Mr. Caulfield. I'm so pleased to meet you, I'm Mark Jefferson, Max's photography teacher at Blackwell Academy."

She gaped at him with an open mouth, murmuring."That can't be... You are _Mark Jefferson_? I knew your face looked somewhat familiar."

"Have we met before?" Mark asked with a puzzled expression, being clearly surprised because he was usually very good at memorizing names and faces of anyone he had met before.

"No, no, we haven't met. It's just...", She grinned at her daughter for a moment and then explained. "You see, my daughter has all these pics and posters of famous photographers in her room in Seattle. And there are also so many of you too. I can tell she's a big fan of yours."

"Is that so?" Mark asked seemingly amused, his gaze returning back to Max again.

' _Great, Mom! Why did you have to tell him that? Gosh, now I look like one of those crazy fan girls. It's so embarrassing!_ ' Max wanted to crawl inside a hole and never come out again, her already blushed cheeks turning to a deeper shade of red.

"She's exaggerating again. Yes, I have some pics of my photography inspirations. But... you know, what's wrong about being a fan?" Max uttered, trying to avoid Mark's searching eyes.

Vanessa chuckled. "Maxine is such a cute nerd when it comes to photography, Mr. Jefferson. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be for her to study directly under you, one of her idols."

"Your daughter loves photography from the bottom of her heart and she's also one of my most gifted students in class. You should be proud, Mrs. Caulfield. I can see her having a bright future as professional photographer if she continues to hone her skills." Mark stated in an appreciative tone, looking like a satisfied teacher who was more than pleased with one of his favorite students.

"Of course, I also know that Max has a tendency to sell herself short. That's why I can only encourage her to put herself out there. It's something I can't teach." He added thoughtfully, exchanging glances with Max.

"Ah, I'm so happy to hear that. We always knew that a career in photography would become Max's goal someday." Vanessa visibly struggled to contain her emotions now, wiping a happy tear from her eye and saying. "You see, our little baby already played with a camera when she was only 4 years old. Who would have thought that our Maxine would come so far?"

"Please, don't cry again, Mom." Max shot her a warning look, thinking that the situation was already awkward enough when her mother started talking about her childhood.

"Yes, yes. Seriously though, Mr. Jefferson. I have to say you're already handsome on these posters but they don't do you justice at all. You look even better in reality, really." Her mother commented with a smile, her compliment flattering him.

Mark smiled back at her. "Why, thank you, Mrs. Caulfield." There was a strange fascination in his brown eyes as he stared deep into hers, his gaze darkening as he remarked. "And now I can see where Max inherited those beautiful blue eyes."

 _'Okay, stop right there! We're approaching new levels of cringe here. Do I need to see my mother and boyfriend flirt right in front of my eyes? Hell, no!_ ' Max thought and pulled a wry face, rolling her eyes at them.

Thankfully, her father decided to step between them, pointing a finger at the tv set and suggesting. "Everyone, the Sea Hawks game is starting soon. We should check out if we can watch it here."

Vanessa sighed at the distraction, waving her hand. "Yes, yes, darling. We won't forget your boring football game."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Jefferson but my husband..." She began but Mark quickly made a dismissive gesture with his hand, glancing at his wristwatch and saying in a busy tone. "It's quite alright. I have to leave and must return to school now anyway. Please, have a good time and enjoy the football game."

Her mother seemed disappointed, murmuring. "Oh well, that's too bad. And here I've hoped we could chat a bit more. I mean, how often do you get the chance to talk to a renowned photographer?"

"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to chat again, Mrs. Caulfield." Mark assured her, already bidding her farewell and shaking her hand.

Max held up a hand and her blue eyes shot over to him like a deer caught in the headlights. "Ma-, uh, Mr. Jefferson, please wait a sec."

He turned around and frowned. "Yes, Max, what is it?"

Her voice was calm and composed but inside she could already feel her own nervousness rising as she simply said. "It's the Everyday Heroes Contest."

He arched an eyebrow, repeating in a questioning tone. "The _contest_?"

As in response Max opened the top drawer of the side table next to her bed and took out a white envelope, handing it to him. "My entry."

Slowly, he took her submission in his hands, surprise written all over his face as he wanted to know. "When did you...?"

"Today. The nurses had to help me to get up from my bed and get my camera stuff but the rest... It was all me."

His curiosity was awakened and he inquired in a strange, much deeper voice. "May I _take a look_?"

"Yeah, sure.", She mumbled, her whole body suddenly as tense as a bowstring. "You're the judge, right?"

Carefully he opened the envelope, his fingers slowly tracing the edge of her polaroid picture before taking out the photo, treating it like some kind of invaluable treasure.

There was a sharp intake of breath when his observant eyes began to roam over her photograph, picking up every single detail, his mind gradually analyzing the deeper meaning behind his student's art.

What Max had accomplished with the few tools she had at her disposal was truly astonishing. Mark had certain expectations, ideas what she would come up with. But this... This was unexpected, it was something else. His student had used a mirror as her prop which was nothing out of the ordinary of course. Mirror photography was quite a popular style for many portrait photographers after all.

No, what made this photo truly exceptional in his eyes was what Max had achieved with this simplistic approach. She had chosen to use herself as subject, thus exposing herself to her own camera eye.

The picture showed her standing in front of a mirror, wearing her white hospital gown. The theme was vulnerability as she allowed her camera to capture her own weakness, her own fragile emotions. A sad, frail look on her face but a faint light shining in her beautiful blue eyes, like a spark of hope kindling a dying flame. Her emotions here were raw, they were real. It wasn't staged or posed. This was true humanity, reminding the viewer that flaws, weaknesses and powerful, intense emotions like melancholy or grief were nothing to be ashamed of. That there was a strength in vulnerability. And the mirror became her additional background, only aiding her to tell her story, granting the viewer a look at her reflection, revealing another part of her body, her bare back covered in thick bandages.

Max had applied this style and had made it her own. The use of a mirror gave her image more depth, adding new details and exposing what would be hidden from the camera in a usual portrait photo. It was a way to connect with her audience, to keep herself open and to explore her own feelings with them. To learn to understand what she felt in this one moment, to accept it.

All in all this was a self portrait which focused solely on Max herself, making her the center of the viewer's attention and telling the viewer that everyone of them had a vulnerable heart, that it was important to let out your true feelings.

"I, uh, don't know what to say, Max. You truly have a gift. As you know I can't prejudge yet but I'm very happy that you decided to enter. That means a lot to _me_...", he quickly cleared his throat as he caught her parents staring at him and added, "And to Blackwell. Remember my words, the first step for any artist is to put yourself out there in the world, without fear."

"Yeah, I kept that advice in mind." Max gave him a shy smile, slightly blushing at his words and warmth rushing through her. Her body began to relax and she felt somehow relieved now, confessing to him. "You know, I never thought that I'd be able to enter a photo. I didn't have any confidence in myself and questioned my own selfie photography. I thought it was inferior compared to the work of other students. But then I recalled what you told me, that I should believe in myself. That the only one who is stopping me from achieving greatness is me. My own insecurity."

Max looked down at her hands folded in her lap and went on. "After I woke up from my coma I had lots of time to think about your words. That's when the idea for this shot came up and well, I thought, okay, I have nothing to lose, so I just roll with it. I dunno if I can win anything with this or not but that's fine with me. At least I submitted something."

She sighed, appearing tired now. "The rest is up to you and Principal Wells. I'm sure you'll pick the right winner."

He nodded at her and put the photo back inside the envelope, telling her with a soft voice. "Thank you, Max. I can't predict who will win the contest but it'll be a tough competition. That's for sure."

* * *

It was already late in the evening when Kristine Prescott stood in front of Nathan's dorm room. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was more than pissed that this arrogant art teacher kept her waiting like that.

 _'Damn jerk. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with? I'm a Prescott, for fuck's sake!_ ' Kris thought and leaned against the wall, feeling so goddamn tired and irritated now.

The young woman hated it to be alone like this, subjected to her own thoughts. Her life had been somewhat okay and normal before she had received that one cursed phone call, her mother Caroline pleading with her to come home as soon as possible. She remembered that moment vividly as if it had only been yesterday. She had been relaxing on an old fishing boat with her friends, smoking weed and having some fun after work. Life had been going on as ever, everything proceeding the usual way. There had been nothing out of the ordinary. No worries, no problems, no headaches nor concerns.

That was her carefree life in Brazil, far away from the Prescott family or, to be more precise, far away from that bastard Sean Prescott. That fucking phone call though, it changed everything in an instant. The only person she really cared about in her family was badly hurt, or rather close to death.

Maybe she had been a coward like Sean said, maybe she should have never left Arcadia Bay in the first place and none of this shit would have happened. Yet now it didn't matter anymore. It was too late. For Nathan. And for her.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, all those emotions inside her welling up again like a rising tide. Kris wanted to scream, she wanted to scratch the walls with her fingernails, she wanted to break down and cry. One tiny part of her even considered the notion to hurt herself with a blade, feeling a strong urge to punish herself because she hadn't been there when Nathan had needed her the most.

The big and caring sister... What a joke, what a failure she was. There was a heavy lump stuck in her throat whenever her brother occupied her mind these days. All those images and feelings were coming back to her, haunting her. Doctors telling her that her brother was in a vegetative state, in an unresponsive wakefulness syndrome or whatever. One particular image would never go away. One that she would never get out of her head for the rest of her life. It was that one image of seeing her brother with a swollen head, one half bloated like a balloon. Later she found out that this had been caused by the brain hemorrhage where doctors had to perform an emergency surgery to save Nathan's life. After that experience she would always stare at the bandages around his head. A striking reminder how close she had been to lose Nate forever.

The whole situation seemed so utterly hopeless right now. Although it looked as if her brother was only sleeping in that hospital room, she strongly believed that he was somewhere in there. When she had stroked his hand and had talked to him several times, she could definitely sense a reaction there. Like eyes moving behind his eyelids for a split second or a barely noticeable motion of a finger. Or sometimes she imagined that she could see his lips moving as if he wanted to speak.

All these observations only strengthened her belief that Nathan's brain was still working. That he wasn't dead yet. There was still a tiny sliver of hope to which she held on to. However, Sean saw it differently. To him Nathan was nothing but a dirty stain on his white jacket. An inconvenience he had to deal with. That was the reason why Kristine hated her father so much. His indifference towards his own son was shocking, scary even. And this realization plunged her into even deeper depths of hell, making her fear the worst. The fear that Sean would just decide to turn off the machines one day to get rid off his problem son. A means to save money and time in his eyes.

Kris gritted her teeth and unconsciously clenched her fists, all muscles inside her body taut as she thought about Sean. ' _You hate bad publicity, dad. It's bad for your business. Isn't it? You fucking asshole!_ '

Just as Nathan's sister wanted to strike out in pain and punch the nearest wall, a soft voice caused her to pause. Irritated, she turned towards the source of disturbance and spotted that annoying photography teacher.

"Kristine, there you are. I'm so sorry for being late." He smiled apologetically, appearing a bit out of breath after running around the campus to get to the Prescott dormitory in time.

Kris frowned at him, looking rather displeased. "You asked me to be punctual and look who's late now."

"I know, I know. Unfortunately something came up and it took longer than I thought." Mr. Jefferson stated and lifted a hand to adjust his fancy hipster spectacles.

"May I ask what that _something_ was?" She huffed, hands on her hips and narrowing her dark blue eyes at him.

"But of course. My student, Miss Caulfield... she woke up from her coma today and the nurses had allowed me to visit her. It seems our conversation took longer than I had initially anticipated. Sorry about that." He explained quickly, running a hand through his brown hair.

Kris was surprised, saying. "Oh, I didn't know that."

"That's quite okay. But I think we shouldn't stand around here and waste our time with idle chit-chat. Let's get inside. That's the reason why we came to this place, right?" His hand motioned to the door and Kristine had the strange impression that this man couldn't wait to get inside Nathan's dorm room.

"Y-yeah." Kris agreed, a bit flustered. She had been sure that he had just kept her waiting on purpose but now it seemed she had misjudged him. Maybe Jefferson wasn't such a big douchebag after all.

Slowly, she removed the key from her inner jacket pocket, her hand hovering over the door lock for a moment, hesitating.

He stepped closer to her, his calm voice almost sounding taunting in her ears."What's the matter, Kristine? You're so close to the truth... Why stop now? Don't tell me you got cold feet?"

"Bullshit! Who has cold feet, huh?" Kris shot back angrily and turned the key, inwardly hating that jerk even more.

"Okay, let's see what we have here." She announced in a curious tone and couldn't deny that she felt kinda anxious now, not knowing what to expect or to find here. A draft of air touched her skin now, cold enough to make her shiver.

 _'Oh my God, I knew that Nate was into dark stuff lately but that's... I dunno, really creepy_.' She thought as she reluctantly crossed the threshold, her entire body tense and cold sweat starting to trickle down her back.

Nate's room was unbelievably dark, mostly due to the blinds lowered to a sliver, only letting the slightest light in. A projector showed eerie monochrome shots on the wall, the black and white photography reminding her of an old expressionism style.

A bleak chill settled into her chest when she discovered even more disgusting stuff. ' _What the hell, Nate! BDSM? Are you fucking kidding me?_ ' Kris thought as she studied those dark bondage portrait photographs on the wall. What terrified her the most was the realization that her brother obviously enjoyed to see women like that. Like depraved sex objects, only existing to fulfill some perverted male fantasies.

A part of her wanted to blame Sean for this nonsense. Their dad was no saint and loved to utter some degrading remarks about his female employees here and there. Maybe it was possible that Nathan had picked that shit up and had developed his own kinky ways to view women.

"There might be something useful in those drawers." His smooth voice was suddenly so close to her ear that she almost jumped in shock, clearly startled.

"Fuck you, man! Wanna give me a heart attack or what?" Kris grunted, needing more than just a moment to get a hold of herself again. Oh, how she would have loved to punch that bastard in the face now. There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. Furthermore, she absolutely hated men like him. Those pretentious, smug photographers who pestered everyone with their artsy fartsy crap and who loved to be worshipped by their fans, believing they were the center of the world.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that." Amusement colored his tone, his glasses glinting under the projector's light so that she couldn't make out his eyes anymore.

Fires of irritation were smoldering in her blue eyes as she pulled a face and spat back. "I guess that's your little trick to impress dumb, young schoolgirls, huh? Well, sorry to disappoint you but that won't work on me, Sir."

"Oh, Kristine, Kristine.", he chuckled and shook his head, his tone dropping an octave lower now, sounding somewhat intimidating. "I can assure you that it would be quite easy to _change_ your mind. But this isn't about me. I believe we're both here to find some clues so we better _start looking_."

There was a coldness in his voice which made her freeze right there on the spot, a sudden chill running down her spine. However, he was right. She didn't have the time to think about that stupid poser teacher right now. If it were up to her then she would send that fancy hipster idiot straight to hell and would gladly ask him to stay down there.

Grimacing, Kristine headed toward the drawers now while Jefferson seemed busy checking Nathan's desk close to the windows.

"Okay, lil' brother. Give me something... _anything_." She murmured and searched through his stuff, rummaging in his clothes, letters, magazines and books.

Soon one certain photo caught her attention. It clearly stood out in this chaos because Nathan had bothered to put it inside a transparent plastic cover. He probably valued the picture so much that he wanted to avoid any stains or scratches.

A strange nervousness overcame her. The pounding sound of her own pulse throbbed in her ears and she unconsciously held her breath as she seized the pic, not daring to make any sound.

"Oh my God... no." Kris whispered in disbelief, her hands trembling uncontrollably and her blue eyes widening. Her breathing became ragged and harsh as she recognized who the person on that picture was. It was a horrifying image of Chloe Price lying on Nathan's floor. She seemed unconscious, most probably drugged.

' _Why, Nate, why? Why would you do this?_ ' She asked herself in her thoughts, not knowing her brother anymore.

One hand gripped the edge of the cabinet, being completely petrified after this terrible discovery. Kris was speechless. It couldn't be. Not Nathan. Not her Nate. It was impossible. But when her mind recalled his disturbing BDSM photo collection it didn't seem so unlikely anymore that he would really do something like this.

While Kristine was trying to make sense of her brother's motives, Mark had used that distraction to get what he had been looking for. The last piece of evidence which still posed a risk to him. Nathan's burner phone. He picked it out quietly from its hiding spot beneath the couch, being careful to ensure that his odd action wouldn't attract her attention. With one elegant motion the device slid inside his inner jacket pocket.

Perfect. Finding that one particular item immediately made him feel a lot better. All the pieces were falling into the right place with remarkable ease. Now the time had finally come to deal with the last obstacle standing in his path, Nathan's pesky sister. Mark would need to silence her once and for all. One way or another.

The air was suffused with an uncomfortable, horror-stricken silence now and piercing this silence was the voice of Mark Jefferson, asking her in a mild tone. "Did you find your answer, Kristine?"

The woman sank against the wall, forcing out a strangled whisper. "You _knew_ , didn't you?"

"Yes, I _did_." Mark affirmed and didn't even blink.

"Then why didn't you _stop_ him?" Kristine wanted to know, pressing a hand to her forehead to suppress the arising headache.

There was a look of sympathy in his eyes now, telling her sadly. "Believe me, I tried. Many, many times. But you know as well as I do how dangerous schizophrenia really is. It can take you to some very dark places. Who knows how many girls Nathan targeted for his strange hobby?"

Kris tightened her grip around the photo in her hand and went very still, murmuring in a cautious voice. "I only see a picture of Chloe Price here."

Mark nodded at that and went on, one half of his face cloaked in sinister shadows now. "Chloe Price, yes. Then we have Rachel Amber. Maybe there are even _more_."

The mere thought alone that there could be more victims out there made Kris shudder. For a long moment she was stunned, the whole room darkening and its shadows closing in around her. And it didn't help one bit to have this man at her side. She found his overpowering presence and calm tone quite unsettling.

"Did my father know about _this_?" She inquired hoarsely, a blank expression on her face.

"No, he didn't. I promised your brother to keep this a secret. To protect _you_ , to protect _your family_."

"Great. And what now?" Kris felt the dizziness getting worse, her body demanding to sit down now.

Mark moved closer. So close that she could already feel his breath ghosting over her skin. His warm hand settled onto her shoulder and the man brought his lips to her ear, whispering very quietly, his tone sincere and reasonable. "No one has to know about _this_ , Kristine. I can keep it a secret. It would be _our little secret_."

Kris slowly turned her head to look into his dark eyes. She could barely breathe and forced out a whisper, asking him. "No one would know?"

With the back of his finger he traced the line of her cheek, assuring her. "What we both say here will never pass beyond these walls. I promise. So, what do you say? Yes or no, Kristine?"

His smooth voice seemed to come from very far away. This felt like the inevitable deal with the devil. A deal she couldn't refuse if she wanted to protect her family from further problems. An ongoing investigation by the police was already causing enough trouble for them and so far they hadn't found any incriminating evidence against her brother yet. They only had Chloe Price's witness statement which was debatable evidence at best. A girl without memories couldn't prove anything. And now it was her turn to ensure that it stayed that way.

Yes, it was dirty. Yes, it was wrong. However, she had no other choice.

Mark Jefferson stared at her, the dim beams of the high-tech projector illuminating his entire face in pale, white light. Kris felt her own stomach tie up in knots as she watched his outstretched hand. It was unnerving to see him so composed and calm like that.

Her gut feeling told her to stay away from this man but her mind had other plans. Swallowing hard, she took his hand in hers, ultimately sealing the deal to protect her younger brother.

"I accept."

* * *

The next morning at the hospital began as eventful as yesterday. Max had tried to get up from her bed but that had turned out to be a very bad idea. Pain had immediately shot through her body, especially her chest area had ached so much as if someone had ripped it open. Dizziness had plagued her and then she had lost her balance and fell down to the floor. Nurses had rushed to her side and helped her get back to her feet, escorting their stubborn patient to her bed again.

' _Lesson one, don't try to walk_.' Max thought and sighed, hating it to be confined to bed like this. Sometime later Doctor Dawson showed up to perform his usual medical examinations, checking her breathing and her heartbeat. And just when he was about to leave another nurse entered the room to change her bandages again.

Then, much later, after lunch was over someone knocked on the door. Max was already anticipating her parents and shifted in her bed to face the doorway. To her surprise a familiar blue-haired girl opened the door. There was a shy smile playing on her lips as Chloe asked. "May I come in?"

Max nodded and straightened up in her bed, smiling lightly. "Sure."

Chloe pulled out a chair and sat down, seeming a bit tense and nervous as she finally mumbled. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah. So... how are you doing? Are your memories back?" She asked her best friend, not quite knowing how to start this conversation. Their last one didn't go so well.

"Hmm, that's a good question. Some have returned but others didn't. Does it sound strange to you if I tell you that I sometimes _feel_ like being Chloe Price and then there are days when this person feels like a complete stranger to me?" Chloe tried to explain, looking like someone who was still trying to find her own identity.

"That doesn't sound strange at all, Chloe." Max told her in an encouraging tone, still feeling rather odd being around her best friend again who was an adult now, just like her. So much had changed between them that both seemed to be aware that their friendship would never be the same again. That they would never go back to that carefree life they once had as kids, playing pirates at Arcadia Bay's lighthouse.

"What about you? Does it... _hurt_?" Chloe pointed at Max's chest and stared at the bandages with a pained expression.

"Don't worry. It looks much worse than it actually is." Max replied and gave her a relaxed smile, an attempt at reassuring her friend that there was nothing to worry about.

"It's... it's my fault. I should have listened to you." Chloe said somewhat stiffly, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"It's no one's fault, okay? You were _in love_ , Chloe. I can totally understand that." Max reminded her, not wanting to see Chloe worried like that.

She closed her eyes and sank down in her seat, bringing her folded hands to her forehead, admitting to her. "You know what? After everything that happened I still _love him_. Isn't that crazy?"

"That's what love does to us, yeah." Max commented and thought to herself that she wasn't any different in that regard. After everything she found out about Mark Jefferson, she also couldn't stop loving him.

Chloe smiled at that. It looked like the sad smile of a child who had unexpectedly aged a whole lifetime.

"Now that you mention it. You still haven't told me anything about your new boyfriend yet." The blue-haired girl winked at her, softly elbowing her shoulder.

"It's, uh, _complicated_." Max averted her eyes and sighed.

Her friend arched an eyebrow and leaned slightly forward. " _Complicated_ , huh? Much more complicated than what Josh and I had?"

Max nodded wordlessly and Chloe just smirked at her. "Come on, spill the beans. I wanna know all the _dirty details_ , Maximus Prime."

Max made a serious face and muttered. "Okay, just promise me you won't laugh though."

She raised her hand in the air in a theatrical gesture and giggled. "I, Chloe Price, hereby promise that I won't laugh. Cool now?"

"Oh well...", Max fumbled nervously with her fingers and mumbled. "I, uh, have a secret relationship with my photography teacher."

Chloe looked at her with wide eyes, whispering in disbelief. "No way! You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm not kidding, _really_." The brown haired student assured her.

"The shy and timid Maxine fucking Caulfield together with a teacher, wow. I didn't know you're the Sugar Daddy type. Still waters run deep, eh?"

Max laughed nervously. "Trust me, it's not what you think. He's a photography nerd. Just like me. And I dunno but he understands me so well. It's like he can read my thoughts somehow. I've never met someone like him before. He's kind, caring, funny, moody, mysterious and uh, sexy. It's basically the _whole package_."

"So we're talking about a handsome photography nerd with jedi mind powers. That kinda reminds me of Rachel Amber. She could read my mind too. I tell ya it was hella spooky. Anyway, now the most important question. Is he still attractive and hot? Or are we talking about an older vintage here, like, I dunno, grandpa George Clooney?"

Max's face turned bright red, quickly denying. "George Clooney? No way! More like, uh, Bruce Wayne from Batman, perhaps? He's still in his thirties, you know?"

"Okay, that doesn't sound so bad to me. I guess." Chloe remarked in a teasing voice.

Max nodded at her, sighing in obvious relief. "I'm glad I got the official Chloe Price seal of approval."

Chloe's expression suddenly became stern again and she shook her head. "Seriously, Max. That seal of approval has no worth at all. I mean, _look at me,_ dude. Look at the people I fell in love with. First Rachel, then Josh. No happy endings for me."

Max smiled sadly. "At least you met some amazing people, Chloe Elizabeth Price. I mean, come on, _Rachel Amber_? She's like a famous superstar at Blackwell and you're the one who dated her. It's really cool."

" _Rachel_ , yeah... She was my angel. After my dad's death and you moved to Seattle, she became my lifesaver. She was always there for me, she always had my back. We had this plan, you know? Get the hell out of Arcadia Bay and go to Los Angeles." Chloe told her with a bitter expression on her face. It was plain to see that her blue-haired friend was looking through her now, staring at something beyond her that only she could see.

Max placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "I'm so sorry, Chloe. Do you have any idea what you'll do now? Will you stay in Arcadia Bay?"

A girlish grin spread out over her face as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. " _Stay here_? No way, Super Max. Joyce and me have already made up our minds. William is dead, Rachel is dead and now even David is dead. There's nothing that's keeping us in this cursed town any longer. Our plan is to sell our house and get a RV. We'll do what Rachel and I always wanted to do. The next stop is the city of angels."

She looked impressed and was also very happy to hear that Joyce and Chloe had decided to move on in their life. "Wowsers. _Wild and free_. That's so you, Chloe. I kinda envy you. But what about your treatment here?"

" _Treatment_ , Max?" Chloe puffed and rolled her eyes. "After I shot Josh his dad chose to suspend all payment for my therapies. Which means I have to leave Arcadia General at the end of the week."

Max could feel her own anger and blood temperature rising. Sean Prescott was such an asshole. "Man, that's so mean. I'm so sorry to hear that."

Chloe's smile faded and her voice became shaky and hoarse with emotion. "Well, what can you do? The only thing that's really bugging me is to leave Josh behind here. I dunno why but I feel somehow responsible for what happened to him. I mean, if it weren't for me then... maybe he wouldn't be in a coma now. It's all my fault."

Both stopped talking and an invisible cage of heavy silence closed in around the two best friends now. Max didn't really know what to say to that because she was also plagued by self doubt, wondering if she had done the right thing or not.

"We can't change the past, Chloe." Max said at last, repeating Mark's words. "And think about it. If it weren't for you then I would be dead now, right? You _saved my life_."

"I guess you're right, Max." Chloe murmured sadly, stretching her arms high up over her head and taking a deep breath to calm herself again.

Max searched her eyes, reminding her. "You're a hero, Chloe Price. Never forget that."

But she only shook her head, a shadow of sadness hanging over her expression. "A true hero would try to save the ones she loves. All of them. I was so scared of Josh's strange behavior that I didn't even give him a chance that day."

Max patted her shoulder. "Hey, it's _not_ your fault, okay?"

Just as Chloe wanted to say something, a nurse rushed into the room, impatience in her voice when she addressed her friend. "Miss Price. Please, come with me. _Now_. It's urgent."

Chloe gave her a puzzled look, her hand instinctively gripping the one of her friend. "Why? What's going on here?"

The nurse gesticulated wildly with her hands, seemingly struggling to stay calm. "It's Nathan Prescott. His doctors saw that his brain activity had slowed significantly and they've determined that he'll never come out of his coma. Dr. Brown said that there's nothing else they can do for him."

" _Nothing they can do_?" Chloe echoed perplexed, the growing fear already turning her face as white as chalk. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means they're going to turn off his life support machine now." She finally made clear, looking rather uncomfortable to be the messenger of such bad news.

Chloe jumped up from her seat, barely holding herself together and yelling in a hysterical tone. "Fuck! Max, I'm sorry! But I gotta go!"

Max nodded and waved a hand at her, urging her to leave. "Yeah, it's okay. Hurry up!"

The nurse still stood at the threshold and gave her a worried look. "I think you should go too. Your friend really needs you now."

Max gulped and pointed at her weak legs. "Okay, can you get me a wheelchair then? I can't walk."

"Sure, I'll be right back."

Watching the nurse leave the room, Max became as still as a statue. Slowly, her brain started to process those terrible news, still struggling to comprehend what was about to happen right now.

 _'Oh my God. If they turn off his machine... Nathan will die_.' She thought, sitting paralyzed in her bed with a hand over her mouth.

* * *

The scene Max saw in front of her eyes was quite unbelievable, shocking even. Like a moment straight out of a crazy drama movie. Nurses held back a screaming Chloe who was already on her knees, hysterically crying and sobbing on the cold linoleum floor. It was the most primal sound a human could produce, her pain and despair flowing from each and every one of her pores.

Then Max spotted a doctor not far away from her, speaking with Sean Prescott in hushed tones, handing him documents and a pen.

To her left she recognized two other family members, guessing that it had to be Nathan's mother and his older sister. Max could hear the sister shouting at her dad, her mother seemingly busy to stop her from going any further. "You're killing him! You monsters! He's your son! What the hell is wrong with you? It's all about money and reputation, right dad?"

Nathan's mother was close to tears, arguing with her daughter. "Krissi, enough! You're still too young to understand this. We're doing this for Nathan. We have no other choice."

"Oh, shut up, Carol! That's the biggest shit I've ever heard!" The daughter shot back, anger and frustration in her voice.

Max felt depleted and numb now, her heart beating against a chest that felt so hollow. Her eyes witnessed all this, like following a moment through a camera eye. Like an impassive and neutral observer. She didn't feel sorry for Nathan at all after all that shit he had put her through.

There was only one thing she felt. Concern. Concern for her best friend Chloe. She was clearly suffering there, experiencing so much raw pain, her tears spilling down her face and her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

The throbbing ache in her chest returned and her hands clenched into fists now. Max felt so helpless in this situation, stuck in her wheelchair and unable to do anything.

The heart shattering sound of screaming grew louder now as several doctors set foot in Nathan's intensive care unit room. _'Shit, they're really doing it_.' Max thought, a strange silence in her soul. A dark coldness which left her feeling empty inside.

' _Get yourself together, Max! Chloe needs you._ ' Max reminded herself once again and drove the wheelchair forward, closing the distance between herself and her blue-haired friend.

As one of the nurses saw her coming she quickly made way for her, assisting her to get to Chloe's side.

"I'm here, Chloe." Max breathed in a soothing voice, taking her in her arms and never wanting to let her go again.

Chloe only nodded in response and buried her face in Max's shoulder, their chests rising and falling in unison, both feeling the warmth and comfort in each other's embrace.

' _I've abandoned you once, Chloe. But I promise, I'll never do that again_.' Max thought and rubbed Chloe's back gently, imagining to be a safe cocoon who protected Chloe's blue butterfly.


End file.
